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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


X  v\ 


rrv_*^. 


A  Battle  and  A  Boy 


BY 

BLANCHE  WILLIS  'HOWARD 

AUTHOR    OF     " 
"TONY  THE  MAID,"    "THE  HUMMING  TOP,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

STREET  &  SMITH 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1891  and  1901, 
By  STREET  &  SMITH 


PS 
Jo 

TU 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 


THE  cattle-market  occupied  the  town  common. 
The  child-market  was  round  the  corner  in  the  Bach 
Strasse.  Burly  peasants  in  long  coats,  red  waist- 
coats, and  high  boots,  tramped  with  a  weighty  air 
from  one  to  the  other,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to 
say  which  was  the  noisier— where  the  children's 
shrill  tones  were  continually  raised  in  eager  bar- 
gaining, or  where  the  poor  beasts,  unable  to  make 
terms  for  themselves,  yet  lifted  up  their  voices  in 
loud  but  futile  protest  against  such  indignities  as 
thumps  in  the  ribs,  having  their  jaws  stretched 
to  the  verge  of  dislocation,  and  their  legs  pulled 
about  in  attitudes  at  variance  with  the  laws  of  their 
anatomy. 

Down  the  very  middle  of  the  long,  rambling 
street,  a  mere  thread  of  a  brook  came  rushing  and 


6  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

leaping  impetuously,  trying  to  overflow  its  rough 
board  barriers.  It  was  strong,  and  swollen  with 
spring  rains  and  the  melting  of  ice  and  snow  in 
the  mountains,  and  made  as  much  noise  as  if  it 
thought  itself  a  river.  Franzl  Eeiner,  kneeling  by 
the  swift  water,  sailed  chip-boats — some  with  masts 
and  some  without — as  diligently  as  if  he  had  come 
to  the  Ravensburg  child-market  for  this  sole  pur- 
pose, and  as  if  his  future  bread  and  butter  would 
depend  exclusively  upon  his  skill  in  this  branch 
of  industry.  His  back  turned  to  the  crowd,  he 
watched  his  boats  bob  and  whirl,  capsize,  disap- 
pear, or  go  gayly  on  past  the  people,  and  tall  high- 
gabled  houses,  with  upper  stories  projecting  each 
over  each,  and  sail  out  of  sight ;  but  he  was  proud- 
ly conscious  they  must  in  time  reach  the  great 
watch-tower,  through  whose  antique,  arched  por- 
tals the  street  ran  away  from  the  town  and  out 
among  the  fields.  In  all  his  eleven  years  he  had 
never  seen  so  many  men  and  women  together,  so 
many  cattle,  and  heard  so  many  voices  as  that  day 
at  Eavensburg.  At  first  he  had  been  bewildered 
by  the  uproar  and  strangeness.  The  animals  in- 
deed looked  familiar  and  homelike,  and  diffused  a 
warm,  barn-yard  smell  which  he  found  comforting. 
He  felt  strongly  inclined  to  remain  near  an  affable 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  7 

cow  that  manifested  a  certain  placid  pleasure  in  his 
society.  But  the  people  and  children  were  push- 
ing on  to  the  Bach  Strasse,  in  front  of  the  Golden 
Lamb  Inn,  and  a  horse-dealer  had  sent  him  along 
with  a  slap  on  the  shoulder  and  a  rough — 

"  Colts  sold  here,  good-for-nothing  boys  down 
there !  " 

The  children  formed  in  a  compact  little  army 
until  their  ranks  were  broken  by  people  pressing 
in  with  sharp  questions  and  scrutiny.  Franzl 
stood  for  a  while  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd,  un- 
certain of  his  course.  Feeling  shy,  he  looked  sul- 
len and  defiant,  and  scowled  at  everyone  whose 
glance  he  met,  not  in  the  least  from  ill-will,  but 
rather  from  a  vague  instinct  of  self-defence.  Nudg- 
ing with  a  prompt  elbow  every  mortal  who  by 
chance,  or  with  intention,  nudged  him,  returning 
with  liberal  measure  all  the  amenities  of  childhood, 
and  the  methods  by  which  the  unregenerate  small 
boy  makes  the  acquaintance  of  his  peer — grimaces, 
motiveless  blows,  inconsequent  efforts  to  trip  up 
and  knock  down — he  listened  a  while  to  the  others, 
and  heard  the  old  hands  among  the  children  glibly 
boasting  what  they  could  do,  and  where  they  had 
been,  how  they  had  kept  cows  and  sheep  on  the 
hill-slopes,  how  they  could  scour  and  run  and  dig. 


8  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Buy  me  !  Buy  me  !  "  they  cried,  shrilly.  But 
it  was  all  rather  confusing,  and  as  nobody  hap- 
pened to  inquire  what  his  special  accomplish- 
ments were,  or  seemed  to  desire  his  services,  he 
gradually  withdrew  from  the  greed  and  turmoil  of 
the  market-place,  and  finally  forgot  it,  devoting 
his  energies  to  the  navigation  of  chips,  for  it  was 
really  a  splendid  brook. 

Meanwhile  if  Franzl  was  oblivious  of  his  duty 
to  secure  a  good  situation,  to  "  sell "  himself,  as 
they  say  in  Ravensburg — for  the  child-market  has 
its  queer  idioms  as  well  as  Wall  Street— the  din 
behind  the  careless  little  mountaineer  proved  that 
others  were  less  indifferent  to  their  worldly  advan- 
tage. The  swarm  of  boys  and  girls  was  of  all  ages 
and  sizes,  and  though  some  were  pale  and  sickly, 
for  the  most  part  they  looked  as  rosy  and  clear-eyed 
as  if  the  Pied  Piper  himself  had  led  them,  dancing 
to  the  tunes  of  his  magic  pipe,  over  the  hills  and 
far  away  from  their  mountain  homes  in  Switz- 
erland and  the  Tyrol.  The  truth  is  they  had 
been  regaled  by  nothing  so  merry  and  melodious. 
They  had  patiently  trudged  many  a  weary  mile  to 
the  Eavensburg  spring-fair.  Those  of  them  who 
had  had  the  occasional  privilege  of  dangling  their 
heels  from  the  back  of  some  jolting  cart  had 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  9 

deemed  themselves  lucky.  They  had  been  glad 
of  every  crust  of  coarse  bread  given  them  on  the 
way,  had  regarded  a  few  cold  potatoes  as  a  feast, 
and  a  swallow  of  bitter  beer  as  a  rare  boon. 

Timid  little  girls  of  eight  or  nine  were  making 
their  first  ventures  in  the  great  world — a  somewhat 
immature  age,  it  must  be  confessed,  for  gaining  an 
independent  livelihood  and  establishing  one's  self 
permanently.  But  nothing  makes  an  experienced 
maid-of-all-work  of  a  baby  of  nine  quicker  than 
seven  or  eight  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
it  is  astonishing  how  motherly  and  painstaking 
even  a  boy  becomes,  when  necessity  compels  from 
him  unceasing  domestic  ministrations.  Where 
mouths  are  many  and  pence  are  few,  the  senior 
infant  acquires  a  goodly  amount  of  routine,  and 
when  Number  Two  becomes  nearly  as  expert, 
Number  One  is  sent  to  trade  her  experience  and 
accomplishments  at  the  child-market.  Here  the 
smallest  human  mite  is  in  demand,  for  perhaps 
some  childless  woman — inspired  by  practical,  not 
sentimental,  motives — has  come  to  hire  a  little  girl, 
or  some  hardworking  young  mother  wants  a  child 
to  tend  the  baby  while  she  looks  after  the  farm, 
her  husband,  and  the  men. 

Large,  bold  boys  and  girls  of  fourteen  or  fif- 


10  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

teen  who  had  been  there  before  knew  how  to 
bandy  rough  jokes  to  amuse  the  bystanders,  and 
in  the  matter  of  a  sharp  bargain  were  a  match  for 
the  wiliest  old  peasant  of  them  all.  A  sad-eyed 
mother  held  her  boy's  hand  clasped  close,  lis- 
tened to  the  boisterous  talk,  scanned  every  peas- 
ant's face,  anxiously  seeking  a  kind  master,  and 
asked  herself,  after  her  three  days'  pilgrimage, 
whether  by  dint  of  still  harder  work,  sewing  still 
later  at  night,  she  could  not  manage  things  better, 
pay  off  the  debts  faster,  and  keep  the  boy  at 
home,  at  least  till  next  year,  when  he  would  be 
stronger  and  older.  A  keen-faced  big  boy  stood 
with  his  arm  thrown  round  his  little  brother,  mak- 
ing brilliant  terms  for  both,  but  the  timid  little 
fellow  invariably  hesitated  to  ratify  the  bargain. 
If  a  boy  was  quick  to  seize  an  advantage  and 
ready  with  his  tongue,  the  children  were  glad  to 
avail  themselves  of  his  oratorical  talent,  and  he 
frequently  had  a  large  clientele.  For  the  boys 
and  girls,  while  sometimes  coming  in  little  herds 
with  a  man  in  charge,  like  sheep  with  a  shepherd, 
were  often  alone  and  rarely  accompanied  by  their 
parents.  People  so  poor  that  they  are  forced  to 
send  young  children  on  such  an  errand  have  ob- 
viously little  time  or  money  to  spend  on  journeys. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  11 

There  were,  therefore,  few  partings  at  the  child- 
market.  The  little  ones  had  shed  their  tears,  or 
gulped  them  down — according  to  their  size  and 
sex — at  home.  They  had  left  behind  all  that  they 
knew  and  loved,  and  being  poor,  hard-working  little 
souls,  had  come  to  cast  their  lot  among  strangers, 
to  find  somebody  who  had  need  of  their  young 
strength,  who  wanted  an  extra  pair  of  willing  feet, 
a  cowherd,  a  shepherd,  a  goatherd,  a  goose  girl — 
or  help  in  rough  work  in  cottage  or  field.  But 
whatever  was  the  especial  purpose  for  which  they 
sold  themselves,  it  was  for  the  hardest  possible 
work  and  the  smallest  possible  pay.  As  they  had 
never  seen  people  who  did  not  have  to  work, 
and  scarcely  knew  such  phenomena  existed  in  this 
busy  world,  the  prospect  was  in  no  respect  dis- 
heartening, but  merely  what  they  expected  as  a 
matter  of  course.  They  cared  little  for  rough 
words,  and  even  a  blow  now  and  then  was  not 
sufficient  to  destroy  all  amicable  relations  with  the 
owner  of  the  fist.  The  most  rose-colored  hope 
which  each  child  privately  entertained  was  that 
he  should  get  more  to  eat  in  his  new  quarters  than 
he  had  ever  had  at  home. 

Peasants  from  all  the  fertile  shores  of  the  Lake 
of  Constance,  from  Bavaria,  Wiirtemberg,  Baden, 


12  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

Austria,  and  Switzerland,  strode  about,  each  speak- 
ing the  dialect  of  his  region,  many  wearing  the  old 
costumes,  which,  although  going  rapidly  out  of 
date,  are  still  worn  on  Sunday  and  special  occasions. 
They  came  to  buy,  to  sell,  to  see  acquaintances, 
and  what  was  going  on.  Some  sought  a  good 
horse,  some  a  cow,  others  a  sturdy  boy  or  girl.  It 
was  easy  to  detect  a  rich  farmer,  for  he  was  apt  to 
take  himself  and  life  with  becoming  gravity. 
There  was  always  a  dense  crowd  by  the  horses, 
another  round  the  children,  and  everywhere  was 
a  continual  commotion,  a  neighing,  a  lowing,  a 
bleating — scolding,  quarrelling,  and  laughter — 
tramping  in  and  out  of  the  inns,  where  every  bar- 
gain was  concluded  by  a  mug  of  beer  ;  above  all, 
the  shrill  treble  of  the  children,  "  Buy  me !  Buy 
me!" 

Franzl  knew  that  the  brook  was  born  in  the 
mountains  as  much  as  he  himself.  Only  a  moun- 
tain brook  could  spin  along  like  that.  Theirs 
on  the  hill  behind  the  cottage  went  faster  still, 
and  clearer,  and  foamy  over  the  rocks.  Yet 
for  a  mountain  brook  that  had  somehow  got 
caught  between  boards  in  the  middle  of  a  town 
street,  this  was  a  fine  fellow,  travelling  on 
quite  unconcerned,  with  a  brave  and  merry  spirit 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  13 

of  its  own.  All  of  which  Franzl  felt  in  a  vague, 
general  way,  and  with  a  sense  of  approval  and 
companionship.  He  shaped  his  masts  carefully, 
and  was  no  more  anxious  about  his  future  than  a 
frisky  colt  round  the  corner. 

A  red-haired  boy  strolled  near  and  watched 
him.  Franzl  scowled  and  rose.  The  other  boy 
was  not  dressed  precisely  like  the  boys  of  Franzl's 
native  valley  and  was  a  stranger — reasons  enough, 
as  all  the  world  knows,  for  mistrusting  and  dislik- 
ing a  person  at  first  sight.  A  mast  would  not 
stand.  The  boy  at  Franzl's  elbow  snickered, 
whereupon  he  punched  the  tempting  red  head  to 
get  it  out  of  the  way,  and  the  owner  returned  the 
blow  with  the  quickness  of  thought.  After  which 
silent  interchange  of  courtesies,  that  made  them 
feel  better  acquainted  and  more  friendly,  Franzl 
continued  to  make  boats  and  the  other  to  watch 
with  benevolent  interest. 

"Pauli,  Pauli,"  called  a  woman,  coming  rapidly 
toward  them.  She  wore  a  red  plaid  shawl  drawn 
over  her  head  and  pinned  under  her  chin,  and  in 
addition  a  man's  hat ;  but  small  eccentricities  of 
toilette  were  too  frequent  to  be  conspicuous  at  the 
Kavensburg  market.  The  children  glanced  up  as 
she  approached. 


14  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

"  How  can  you  be  idling  there,  Pauli,  when  you 
haven't  sold  yourself  yet?  There's  a  fat  Allgauer 
dairyman  who  wants  to  look  at  you.  Josef  is  al- 
ready in  the  Lamb  with  his  Baden  peasant.  Ach, 
it  is  far  from  us — Baden  !  And  little  Vroni — the 
woman  says  she'll  be  easy  with  her,  but  dear,  dear, 
who  knows?  I  don't  fear  for  you,  Pauli.  You  are 
slow  and  steady  like  me,  and  willing  to  keep  at 
your  work  whether  things  are  rough  or  smooth. 
But  Josef  takes  after  your  father,  being  sometimes 
sulky-tempered.  If  they  drive  him,  he  won't  work 
well,  while  if  they'll  coax  a  bit,  he'll  slave  his  fin- 
gers to  the  bone  for  them,  but  how  will  they  know 
that,  the  strangers?  And  my  little  Vroni,  that's 
the  worst !  Twenty  marks  is  all  they'll  give — but 
if  they  are  easy  with  the  child — well,  well !  Come, 
Pauli ! " 

Franzl  dropped  his  boat  and  looked  gravely  after 
them.  He  was  rather  sorry  to  have  Pauli  go. 

The  woman  was  very  poor,  and  had  not  yet  sold 
her  Pauli.  Why  should  she  bother  about  other 
folks'  boys,  she  thought.  But  her  good  heart 
made  her  turn  again,  and  say : 

"  Are  you  sold  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Do  you  want  a  place  ?  " 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  15 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  here  alone  ?  Nobody  to  look  after 
you?" 

"  I'm  taking  caro  of  myself,"  said  Franzl,  with 
dignity. 

"  I  should  think  you  were !  All  Saints  give  us 
patience ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  These  boys !  There 
you  stand  and  cut  chips  like  a  duke,  while  the 
best  places  are  taken  behind  your  back.  What 
will  your  poor  mother  say  to  that  ?  " 

Franzl  did  not  reply.  He  dug  his  heel  hard 
into  the  ground,  swallowed  a  big  choking  lump 
that  he  now  and  then  felt  in  his  throat,  and 
tried  to  squeeze  away  a  hot  sensation  behind  his 
eyes. 

Pauli's  mother  cast  an  anxious  glance  at  the 
crowd,  caught  the  eye  of  her  fat  dairyman,  pointed 
at  Pauli,  gesticulated  frantically,  giving  her  patron 
to  understand  that  she  was  coming  in  a  moment, 
was  somewhat,  but  not  wholly,  reassured  by  his 
nod,  then  turned  with  impatience  to  the  senseless 
child  taking  her  time  and  a^ention  at  so  critical  a 
moment. 

"  Where's  your  mother?  "  she  demanded,  harshly. 

"Dead,"  muttered  Franzl,  his  voice  queer  on 
account  of  the  lump. 


16  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Where's  your  father  ?  "  she  asked,  gently. 

"  Dead." 

"  What  ?    Both  of  them  ?    Oh !  oh ! " 

"  He  died  first.  He  was  hunting  chamois  with 
the  strangers.  He  never  came  back.  Nobody  ever 
found  him.  He's  down  a  cliff  somewhere." 

"Well,  well— that  is  bad  luck!  This  is  a 
world !  And  your  mother  ?  " 

"  She  was  always  missing  him.  Then  she  got 
worse.  Then  she  died,"  said  the  child,  unsteadily, 
digging  his  heel  deeper  into  the  earth. 

"Lately?" 

"Last  week." 

"  And  you've  no  family  at  all  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,  too.  I've  got  some  family,"  he 
returned,  with  a  flash  of  resentment  and  a  surpris- 
ing change  of  demeanor ;  but  he  did  not  communi- 
cate the  fact  that  his  entire  family  consisted  of  a 
queer  little  flannel  bundle,  with  a  face  that  puckered 
and  ten  pink  toes. 

"Well,  well,"  she  returned,  with  a  benevolent, 
but  somewhat  vague,  attempt  at  consolation,  "  it 
will  be  all  right  sometime,"  though  what  was  going 
to  be  right  she  did  not  intimate,  "and  I'm  glad 
you've  got  a  family,  after  all." 

"  I  have,"  Franzl  declared,  stoutly,  and  smiled  for 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  17 

the  first  time,  a  bright  warm  smile,  which  Pauli's 
mother  liked. 

"  You  come  along  with  me,"  she  said,  briskly. 
"  Your  poor  mother  never  wanted  you  to  be  daw- 
dling here,  and  I  am  sure  if  I  was  dead  I'd  be 
much  obliged  to  anybody  who  would  look  sharp 
after  my  Pauli  when  he  needed  it." 

Without  more  ado  she  grasped  his  hand  and 
moved  toward  the  market,  a  boy  on  either  side. 
Franzl  went  willingly  enough,  cheered  by  her  pro- 
tection and  control. 

"  Now,  Pauli,  there's  your  fat  dairyman.  Run 
along  and  tell  him  what  you  did  last  year,  and  that 
you'll  suit  him.  Speak  up !  Don't  be  bashful. 
I'll  be  there  as  soon  as  I  find  little  Vroni.  She'll 
be  lonesome  without  me.  But  there,  how  like  an 
old  fool  I  talk !  She'll  have  to  get  used  to  being 
lonesome.  And  twenty  marks  isn't  much.  Holy 
Saint  Josef,  this  is  a  world !  Here  I  am  selling 
three  children,  and  a  strange  boy,  too,  without  any 
father  or  mother.  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"Franzl  Reiner." 

"  Now,  Franzl,  you  be  a  good  boy  and  sell  your- 
self as  fast  as  ever  you  can.  I'll  be  along  as  soon 
as  I  find  Vroni.  In  a  crowd  like  this  you  could 
lose  your  own  soul  and  never  know  it.  And  I 


18  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

must  speak  a  word  to  Josef.  He's  a  good  child, 
but  sometimes  he's  sulky.  He  takes  after  his 
father.  Franzl,  in  the  first  place,  listen  a  bit.  If 
you  had  listened  instead  of  playing  you  would  have 
sold  yourself  long  ago,  for  you  are  a  fine,  strong 
boy,  Franzl.  Hear  what  the  others  say.  Good 
Lord,  some  of  those  children  would  sell  themselves 
to  the  Kaiser  before  he  knew  it,  and  talk  him  stone 
deaf,  to  boot.  Their  tongues  go  like  mill-wheels." 

Franzl,  although  not  critical,  thought  that  her 
own  tongue  was  not  stiff. 

She  had  elbowed  their  way  well  into  the  noisy 
throng. 

"  Now  you  stand  here  in  the  middle,  and  listen 
with  all  your  ears,  and  find  out  what's  going  on — 
and  look  as  big  as  you  can,  and  if  anybody  wants 
to  buy,  you  talk  away  as  bold  as  a  lion — but  don't 
promise  anything  till  I  come  back.  I'll  be  along 
as  soon  as  I've  looked  after  Pauli  and  Josef  and 
Vroni." 

On  she  went  with  her  intrepid  elbows,  and 
presently  he  lost  sight  of  the  red  shawl  pyramid, 
crowned  by  the  man's  hat. 

Thus  admonished,  instructed,  and  initiated  by 
his  new  friend,  transplanted  from  the  byways  of 
sloth  to  this  great  centre  of  speculation  and  busi- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  19 

ness,  Franzl,  who  was  by  no  means  dull  or  lazy, 
felt  excited  and  interested,  eager  to  begin  opera- 
tions, and  determined  to  do  well  for  himself.  The 
touch  of  human  sympathy  had  melted  his  defiance 
and  loneliness.  No  longer  scowling  and  suspicious, 
he  stood  alert  and  sunny,  calling,  "  Buy  me !  Buy 
me ! "  with  his  fresh  young  voice,  and  awaiting  his 
fate. 


FBANZL'S  fate  presently  stalked  up  to  him  in  the 
shape  of  a  Suabian  peasant,  who  scrutinized  him 
as  narrowly  as  if  he  were  a  horse.  The  solemn 
ruminating  gaze  wandered  slowly  over  his  small 
person,  and  inspected  his  loose  waistcoat,  broad 
leathern  belt,  short,  tight  trousers,  the  stockings, 
that  began  too  late  and  ended  too  soon— for  they 
did  not  approach  the  bare,  brown  knees  or  the 
ankles — the  heavy  shoes,  with  nails  in  the  soles, 
the  curly  brown  hair,  and  the  pretty,  green,  pointed 
Tyrolean  hat,  beneath  which  the  spirited  face  looked 
up  curiously.  His  clothes  were  old,  faded,  patched, 
and  shabby ;  but  they  were  the  Sunday  suit  his 
mother  had  made  for  him  long  ago,  and  constituted 
his  entire  wardrobe.  Some  of  the  children  laid  on 
the  ground  before  them  small  bundles  containing 
all  their  worldly  possessions.  Franzl's  march  had 
been  impeded  by  no  such  weight. 

"  Tyrolean — hm  ?  "  said  the  man. 

The    portentous    "  hm "    puzzled    Franzl.      It 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  21 

sounded  disparaging,  and  lie  did  not  yet  know 
enough  of  trade  to  understand  that  stupid  people 
think  it  sharp  to  underrate  the  value  of  the  wares 
they  wish  to  buy. 

"  From  the  Yenter  Thai,"  he  replied. 

"  Hm — hm — "  repeated  the  peasant. 

"It's  a  splendid  valley,"  Franzl  returned, 
haughtily,  offended  that  anybody  should  "  hm  "  at 
his  home ;  "  it's  got  snow  mountains,  high  ones, 
the  highest  in  the  world — and  rocks,  big  ones,  the 
biggest  in  the  world — and  chamois,  more  chamois 
than  there  are  anywhere  else  in  the  world." 

The  man,  as  taciturn  as  Pauli's  mother  was  lo- 
quacious, stared,  but  otherwise  paid  no  attention 
to  these  boasts.  Puffing  slowly  at  a  long,  brown, 
curving  pipe,  he  measured  the  boy  from  head  to 
foot. 

"  Ever  been  out  to  work  ?  "  he  finally  asked. 

"  No." 

"  What  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  Anything  any  other  fellow  of  my  size  can,  I 
suppose." 

The  peasant  pinched  the  child's  arm,  gave  his 
shapely  legs  a  few  investigating  slaps,  looked  well 
at  the  multitude  of  youngsters  to  satisfy  himself 
anew  that  there  was  no  healthier  boy  on  the 


22  A  BATTLE  AJND  A  DOT. 

ground,  and  again  uttered  bis  enigmatic  "hm." 
Franzl  did  not  mind  it  now.  He  concluded  it  was 
part  of  the  business. 

"  Can  you  engage  for  a  year  ?  " 

Poor  homeless  Franzl  might  have  replied  that 
he  could  engage  himself  for  a  dozen  years,  since 
there  was  nobody  to  miss  him,  but  he  merely 
said : 

"  Don't  mind." 

"  Family  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Franzl,  cheerfully,  "  I've  got  some.-" 

"Hm,  they'll  let  you  alone  will  they?  They 
won't  be  coming  after  you  ?  " 

"  No  danger,"  returned  the  boy,  reflecting  that  it 
would  be  long  indeed  before  those  ten  pink  toes 
would  be  coming  after  him. 

A  circle  had  formed  round  them,  for  the  peasant 
was  known  as  a  man  of  means  and  importance,  and 
a  good  judge  of  cattle.  He  had  inspected  several 
boys  that  morning  without  finding  an  article  to  his 
taste.  He  was  so  slow  he  gave  one  the  impression 
that  he  expected  to  live  a  thousand  years  at  least, 
and  was  paid  by  the  hour  for  deliberating.  While 
he  stared  and  pondered,  Franzl  counted  the  silver 
buttons  which  in  long  dazzling  rows  adorned  the 
farmer's  portly  person. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  23 

"  I'll  give  you  thirty  marks,"  he  proposed. 

Franzl  felt  disappointed  and  mortified.  Why, 
the  woman's  little  Vroni  would  earn  twenty — a  girl 
— and  he  a  big  boy  of  eleven,  as  big  and  strong  as 
some  fellows  of  thirteen.  Confused  and  depressed, 
he  looked  at  the  bystanders,  who,  however,  showed 
no  surprise  at  this  unflattering  estimate  of  his 
powers,  and  indifferently  waited  for  his  answer. 

Suddenly,  a  little  distance  behind  the  peasant, 
Pauli's  red  head  and  friendly  freckled  countenance 
bobbed  into  view,  and  nodded  infinite  encourage- 
ment. With  frantic  gestures,  grins,  and  disre- 
spectful grimaces  at  the  peasant's  broad  back, 
Pauli  swung  his  arms  like  windmills,  and  silently 
cheered  Franzl  on  to  victory. 

The  pantomime  might  have  been  unintelligible 
to  the  wise  and  prudent,  but  it  was  not  to  Franzl, 
to  whom  it  said  :  "  Go  on,  old  fellow !  You're  all 
right.  He's  a  fraud.  We'll  manage  him." 

Support  and  sympathy  from  an  old  and  intimate 
friend — for  so  Pauli  seemed  at  this  crisis — did 
Franzl's  heart  good  and  set  his  wits  working. 

"  Why,  they  always  begin  low  down,"  he  re- 
membered. "That's  what  I've  been  hearing  all 
the  morning.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  forget !  " 

It  struck  him  that  it  would  take  less  time  and 


24  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

trouble  if  people  would  say  at  once  how  much  they 
would  pay,  instead  of  beating  about  the  bush  so 
long.  He  did  not  quite  know  what  he  was  worth — 
a  nice  question,  indeed,  for  anyone  at  any  time  to 
decide  for  himself ;  more  than  Vroni  he  was  sure, 
but  less  than  Pauli,  who,  having  been  bound  out 
before,  belonged  to  the  aristocrats  of  the  market 
and  could  put  on  airs  toward  novices.  Franzl 
was  on  the  point  of  declaring  he  would  not  take  a 
penny  less  than  fifty  marks,  when  he  saw  Pauli 
hold  up  eight  fingers,  and  make  hideous  contor- 
tions with  his  mouth. 

Franzl  understood  and  was  much  excited. 

"  He  means  eighty  marks.  But  that's  what  the 
very  biggest  fellows  have."  Bits  of  talk  and  hag- 
gling which  he  had  heard  with  indifference  now 
recurred  to  him.  "  Oh,  yes,  he  must  come  up  and 
I  must  come  down.  It's  a  kind  of  hide-and-seek. 
He  hides,  then  I  hide." 

A  merry-looking  girl  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  had 
joined  Pauli,  also  another  boy.  All  three  tele- 
graphed by  private  wire  to  Franzl  that  he  must  say 
"  eighty,"  and  eighty  he  said,  boldly  ;  but  he  felt 
queer,  somewhat  as  he  had  once  felt  when  he  was  a 
very  little  boy  and  his  father  had  told  him  to  jump 
from  a  rock  into  a  green,  deep  lake.  He  thought 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  25 

it  was  plain  enough  how  he  would  get  into  the 
water,  but  how  it  would  be  down  there,  and  how 
he  would  ever  come  up  again — that  was  what  he 
didn't  grasp.  This,  too,  was  a  leap  into  the  un- 
known ;  still  he  said  "  eighty,"  in  response  to  his 
privy  counsellors. 

"  Thirty-five,"  the  peasant  offered,  stolidly. 

"Here  we  come,"  Franzl  thought,  "one  toward 
the  other,  like  two  donkeys  crossing  a  bridge." 
But  he  was  in  good  spirits  now,  and  roused  to  do 
his  best. 

With  his  hands  behind  him,  and  making  himself 
as  tall  and  manly  as  possible  to  increase  his  market 
value,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Thirty-five  marks  for  a  big  boy  like  me  !  You 
must  be  joking.  You  mean  seventy-five." 

The  council  of  three  grinned  approval.  Pauli 
waved  his  windmill  arms. 

Observing  Franzl's  bright  face  looking  often  in 
one  direction,  the  peasant  turned  to  discover  the 
attraction ;  but  as  his  rotund  figure  revolved  slowly 
upon  its  axis,  he  saw  nothing  but  people  moving 
about,  intent  on  their  own  affairs,  and  three  most 
innocent  figures,  with  heads  thrown  back  and  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  ancient  tower,  like  connoisseurs 
lost  in  contemplation  of  its  architectural  charms. 


26  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

"Forty,"  he  said,  "and  it's  more  than  you  are 
worth.  Forty  marks  is  a  good  deal  of  money 
nowadays,"  he  remarked  solemnly,  and  looked  at 
the  bystanders.  His  assertion  met  with  sympa- 
thy. 

"That's  true,"  somebody  responded.  "Forty 
marks  is  a  good  deal  of  money.  It  doesn't  grow 
on  every  bush." 

"  Say  seventy,  and  I'll  begin  to  listen,"  returned 
Franzl ;  but  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  command 
his  lordly  tone,  for  forty  marks  seemed  a  fortune 
to  him. 

"  Forty,"  reiterated  the  peasant.  "  Forty  is  my 
price." 

Franzl  hesitated.  Over  the  private  wire  again 
came  sound  advice  from  experienced  heads  : 

"  Say  sixty,  then  come  down  to  fifty,  and  hang 
on  for  your  life." 

Franzl  obeyed  the  instructions  conveyed  by  the 
animated,  expressive,  and  trustworthy  "  code." 

"  Sixty,"  he  called,  boldly. 

The  peasant  puffed  some  time,  regarding  Franzl's 
lithe,  strong  legs.  It  was  those  legs  he  wished  to 
employ.  They  were  the  best  ones  on  the  market 
that  day.  Since  they  could  run  they  had  been 
trained  in  the  mountains  to  climb  and  spring, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  27 

sure-footed  as  a  goat,  while  above  them  were  an 
unusually  deep,  broad  chest  for  a  growing  boy, 
and  perfect  lungs. 

"  He  is  worth  a  hundred  marks  and  more  to 
me,"  reflected  the  peasant ;  "  I'll  give  him  fifty ;  " 
for  he  would  not  have  enjoyed  a  golden  crown  in 
paradise  unless  he  could  feel  that  he  had  bought 
it  for  half  price. 

Meanwhile  the  allied  juvenile  forces  and  the 
enemy  had  arrived  at  the  same  conclusion. 
They  were  all  determined  upon  fifty  marks — 
the  three  children,  because  they  had  their  spe- 
cial tariff,  and  fifty  marks  was  the  highest  price 
which  a  new  boy  under  fourteen  could  obtain  ; 
Franzl,  because  they  had  inspired  him  with  con- 
fidence, and  it  is  always  pleasant  to  have  one's 
value  set  at  a  high  figure;  the  peasant,  because 
such  a  boy  was  dirt-cheap  on  such  terms.  Never- 
theless the  peasant  proposed  forty-two,  and  Franzl 
came  down  slowly  to  fifty-eight,  and  there  they  re- 
mained balancing  some  time  before  they  would 
deign  to  make  further  concessions.  Finally,  after 
a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  shilly-shallying,  they 
arrived,  by  reluctant  degrees  at  fifty,  which  made 
all  parties  secretly  triumphant,  particularly  the 
conspiracy  of  labor  against  capital. 


28  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

Franzl,  who  felt  far  richer  than  a  Rothschild,  still 
thought  it,  all  in  all,  a  silly  performance,  for  he  was 
only  an  ignorant  little  mountaineer,  and  hadn't  a 
suspicion  that  this  sort  of  thing  was  not  peculiar 
to  the  Ravensburg  market,  but  that  roundabout 
ways  were  in  high  favor  all  over  the  world,  and 
that  statesmen,  diplomates,  lawyers,  doctors,  all 
sorts  of  wise  old  graybeards,  frequently  scorn  to 
accomplish  their  objects  with  simplicity  and  direct- 
ness, when  they  can  possibly  spin  out  preliminaries 
and  waste  time  in  not  saying  what  they  mean. 

If  Franzl  had  been  uncertain  as  to  the  delicate 
matter  of  self-valuation,  he  was  quite  at  his  ease 
with  respect  of  certain  practical  privileges  which 
it  was  now  his  task  to  secure  from  his  new  master, 
and  scarcely  needed  Pauli's  lively  suggestions  from 
the  background. 

"  You'll  give  me  two  suits  of  clothes  " — what  he 
really  said  was  double  clothes — "  a  Sunday  suit  and 
a  workday  one  ?  " 

The  peasant  demurred  and  wrapped  himself  in 
smoke  and  silence  to  ostensibly  consider  the  ques- 
tion, but  this  again  was  merely  his  idea  of  manners 
and  dignity,  for  every  child,  according  to  old  cus- 
tom which  nobody  ever  thought  of  evading,  could 
claim  two  suits. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  29 

"  Yes,  two,"  lie  agreed,  at  length. 
"  Whole  suits,"  persisted  Franzl ;  "  jacket  and 
trousers  and  waistcoat  ?  " 

After  another  season  of  profound  meditation  the 


"Whole  suits." 

"  And  two  pairs  of  shoes  ?  " 

The  peasant  puffed  a  while,  stolid,  inscrutable, 
and  as  important  as  if  the  fate  of  the  Triple  Alli- 
ance depended  upon  his  answer. 

"  Two  pairs  of  shoes,"  he  repeated. 

"  Shoes  made  out  of  shoe-leather  ?  "  Franzl  stip- 
ulated, gravely. 

The  peasant  nodded  assent,  and  the  bystanders 
laughed,  but  Franzl  was  quite  serious.  He  had  seen 
shoes  made  of  wood,  of  felt,  of  carpet,  even  of  an  old 
coat,  and  he  intended  his  should  be  out-and-out 
shoe-leather  shoes,  and  no  mean  woolly  imitations. 

"  And  school  in  the  winter,  Franzl  —  three 
months'  school,"  prompted  Pauli's  mother,  who  had 
listened  to  the  closing  conditions.  Neither  party 
to  the  sale  was  as  grateful  as  he  ought  to  have  been 
for  this  judicious  suggestion  ;  the  farmer  because 
he  did  not  want  to  lose  so  much  of  the  boy's  time, 
and  Franzl  for  reasons  which  need  not  be  dwelt 
upon,  since  they  are  evident  to  every  eleven-year- 


30  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

old  boy,  unless  he  be  a  little  John  Stuart  Mill,  who 
at  the  age  of  three  preferred  Greek  to  taffy. 

Fianzl  did  not  look  elated,  and  something  in  his 
eyes  expressed  the  wicked  intention  of  shirking 
school  if  he  could ;  but  Pauli's  mothei  came  for- 
ward valiantly,  leading  little  Vroni. 

"  Now  you  must  let  him  go  to  school,  you  know. 
Boys  must  have  their  schooling.  My  Pauli  and 
my  Josef  will  have  their  three  months'  school. 
Speak  up  Franzl,  and  say  you  want  to  go  to  school. 
Fifty  marks  is  good,  and  the  clothes  and  shoes, 
and  everything  is  all  right  except  the  school.  I've 
walked  three  days  from  beyond  Bregenz,"  she  con- 
fided to  the  peasant's  immovable  countenance,  "  and 
I've  sold  three  children  this  morning,  and  I  ought 
to  start  for  home  again,  for  my  man's  got  a  broken 
leg — broken  in  two  places.  I  suppose  he  couldn't 
help  breaking  it  just  at  this  busy  time,  with  the 
spring  coming  on,  but  it  does  seem  as  if  men 
made  all  the  trouble  they  could.  I've  got  five  chil- 
dren younger  than  Vroni  here.  This  is  a  world ! 
That's  why  I  have  to  sell  some  of  them.  I  don't 
fear  for  Pauli.  He's  steady  as  a  mill,  like  me. 
But  Josef  takes  after  his  father,  being  a  bit  sulky 
in  the  temper,  and  strangers  won't  know  how  to 
humor  him  ;  and  little  Vroni— well,  well,  they  say 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  31 

they'll  be  easy  with  the  child — it's  only  twenty 
marks  she  gets  !  If  you  have  eight  children,  you 
know,  and  a  man  with  a  broken  leg — broken  in 
two  places — spring's  an  inconvenient  season  for 
broken  legs.  Well,  well !  But  it's  as  much  of  a 
pull  letting  them  go  off  among  strangers  as  if  you 
had  only  one.  Nobody  knows  what  they  will  find 
off  there.  It's  as  bad  as  getting  married — which 
is  mostly  pretty  uncertain.  I  ought  to  be  off.  It's 
no  use  waiting,  now  they  are  all  sold.  You  will  let 
Franzl  go  to  school,  won't  you  ?  It's  his  right,  you 
know." 

She  might  as  well  have  addressed  herself  to  the 
town-pump  so  far  as  sympathy  and  response  were 
concerned.  But  happily  all  that  she  required  was 
a  listener.  The  sympathy  and  response  she  her- 
self could  provide.  Undaunted  by  the  peasant's 
apathy,  she  went  on  energetically : 

"  I'm  looking  a  bit  after  Franzl.  I  told  him  I'd 
see  that  things  were  all  right.  He's  got  a  family, 
but  they  couldn't  come  with  him.  They  want  him 
to  go  to  school.  It  isn't  respectable  not  to  get 
an  education  when  you're  young  and  not  good 
for  much  else.  Speak  up,  Franzl.  Say  you  want 
three  months'  school.  Tell  him  your  mother 
wouldn't  want  you  to  miss  your  schooling." 


32  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Franzl  flushed,  and  without  more  delay  mut- 
tered, ungraciously : 

"Well — school  then,"  and  the  peasant  grudg- 
ingly agreed. 

The  bargain  was  now  completed.  Franzl  Reiner 
was  bought  and  sold,  and  duly  registered.  He 
submitted  his  papers,  which  the  peasant  examined 
with  his  phenomenal  slowness,  then  fished  from 
the  depths  of  a  leather  purse,  as  long  as  a  stocking, 
a  five-mark  piece,  which  he  gave  the  boy  in  proof 
of  good  faith.  It  was  a  large,  heavy  coin.  Franzl 
longed  to  examine  it,  but  the  older  boys  were 
watching  him,  and  pride  led  him  to  drop  it  care- 
lessly into  his  pocket. 

Little  Vroni,  however,  was  more  guileless,  and 
worked  to  unclasp  her  mother's  fingers,  which 
held  a  similar  but  smaller  coin. 

"  There,  little  one,"  she  murmured  in  her  lov- 
ing and  pretty  dialect ;  "  thou  seest  it,  my  child. 
It  is  thine.  Mother  will  put  it  away  that  it  may 
not  be  lost.  And  here  is  thy  woman  coming  for 
thee.  It  is  time  to  go.  Be  good,  Vroni.  Mother 
will  come  for  thee  some  day.  Eun  along,  child." 

She  gave  the  little  girl  a  slap  on  the  shoulder, 
did  not  kiss  her — peasants  have  not  much  time  to 
kiss  their  children — did  not  shed  a  tear  as  Vroni, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  33 

somewhat  dazed  by  her  vast  experiences  that  day, 
and  led  by  the  strange  woman,  walked  out  of  the 
crowd  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  without 
once  looking  back.  The  mother  watched,  dry-eyed, 
until  the  small  figure  was  out  of  sight,  then  dropped 
upon  a  bench  in  front  of  the  Lamb,  flung  her  apron 
over  her  face,  buried  her  head  in  her  hands,  rocked 
to  and  fro,  and  sobbed  and  mourned  for  her  chil- 
dren. But  tears  were  a  luxury  which  she  could 
not  afford  long  at  a  time. 

"  Lord !  this  is  a  world !  "  she  muttered. 

As  she  looked  up  with  her  wet  red  eyes,  Pauli 
stood  near — troubled  and  awkward — and  Franzl 
hesitated  at  the  door  of  the  inn. 

"Oh,  you  boys,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  strange 
outbreak  of  irritation,  "  mind  that  you  behave 
yourselves,  mind  that  you  are  steady  and  decent, 
and  grow  into  something  worth  having.  Men-folks 
do  an  awful  lot  of  harm — and  women-folks  have  the 
worst  of  it — mostly.  But  there — what  do  you 
know  about  it  ?  Off  with  you,  Pauli !  Josef's  gone 
— Vroni's  gone."  She  stood,  smoothed  her  apron, 
rubbed  the  back  of  her  hand  roughly  across  her 
eyes,  and  prepared  to  start  on  her  homeward 
journey.  "Behave  yourself,  Franzl.  Good-by, 
Pauli.  There  is  nothing  more  for  me  to  do 


34  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BO 7. 

here,  and  there's  enough  work  waiting  somewhere 
else." 

She  turned  from  him,  suddenly  looked  back,  a 
world  of  tenderness  in  her  rugged  face  : 

"  You've  been  a  good,  steady  boy,  Pauli.  You 
have  always  worked  better  than  any  other  boy." 

She  strode  away  with  the  step  of  a  man,  and  the 
queer  man's  hat  on  her  head — in  her  heart,  heavy 
sorrow — the  kind,  womanly,  pitiful  heart  that,  in 
spite  of  its  own  burdens,  could  care  for  the  inter- 
ests of  a  lonely  little  boy  by  the  wayside. 

In  the  Lamb,  packed  close  together  on  benches 
at  long,  bare  tables,  sat  the  peasants  and  the  chil- 
dren who  had  sold  themselves.  It  was  their  in- 
alienable right  to  eat  heartily  of  soup  and  meat, 
with  beer,  as  the  final  ceremony  of  the  market,  and 
the  one  which  they  regarded  as  entirely  satisfac- 
tory. 

Neither  Pauli  nor  Franzl  had  had  a  morsel  that 
day,  and  when  they  found  themselves  and  their 
respective  proprietors  sitting  before  bowls  of 
steaming  hot  soup,  they  fell  to  in  silence  and  with 
ravenous  appetites.  The  din  of  voices,  the  air 
dense  with  the  smoke  of  a  score  of  strong  pipes 
and  beer  fumes  could  not  destroy  their  zest. 
Pauli  loved  his  mother  honestly,  and  choked  and 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  35 

felt  queer  when  she  left  him  ;  but  he  was  only  thir- 
teen. He  could  not  comprehend  her  grief  or  her 
love ;  he  had  never  before  in  all  his  life  had  so 
much  soup  at  once,  and  this  felicity  absorbed  his 
being. 

When,  after  a  while,  the  two  men  moved  to  a 
table  where  great  cattle-potentates  were  discuss- 
ing prices  and  pounding  with  their  fists,  Pauli  re- 
marked with  a  chuckle  : 

"  Well,  we  nosed  him  about !  " 

"  Lucky  for  me  !  "  returned  Franzl. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mind  doing  you  a  good  turn," 
Pauli  rejoined,  with  frank  indifference.  "  The 
mother  wouldn't  leave  you  alone.  But  what  I 
wanted  most  was  to  pay  him  off.  He  offered  me 
forty  marks  this  morning,  and  said  that  was  all  I 
was  worth.  He  pretended  there  was  something 
the  matter  with  my  knees.  I'm  an  old  boy,  and  a 
sixty-mark  boy,  and  when  I  saw  him  put  his  eye 
on  you  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  make  the  price, 
and  he  shouldn't  have  you  for  less  than  fifty. 
That  other  fellow  was  angry  with  him,  too,  for 
some  such  trick.  He  and  his  sister  and  I,  we  sold 
you  well.  Knees  indeed!  Old  Skinflint  had  to 
pay  fifty.  He's  rich  as  a  king — ten  or  twelve  cows 
and  no  end  of  vineyards." 


36  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Franzl's  eyes  opened  wide  at  such  visions  of 
affluence,  but  he  took  exception  to  Pauli's  tone, 
and  remarked,  loftily  : 

"Oh,  I  could  have  sold  myself  alone.  I  was 
getting  on  all  right." 

"  We'd  better  eat  all  we  can  stuff,"  observed  the 
practical  Pauli,  in  no  respect  moved  by  Franzl's 
ingratitude. 

Whereupon  the  boys  relapsed  into  silence  and 
devoured  everything  that  was  set  before  them. 

That  night  Franzl,  wedged  between  his  master 
and  another  heavily  built  man,  had  his  first  ride 
on  the  railway.  The  carriage  was  crowded  with 
peasants  smoking  their  pipes  and  talking  of  the 
market,  prices,  cattle,  vineyards,  and  crops.  Franzl 
was  wildly  excited  by  the  movement,  and  although 
it  was  an  accommodation-train  of  surpassing  slow- 
ness, he  held  his  breath  with  delight,  and  fancied 
himself  flying.  He  must  tell  his  mother  about  it, 
he  resolved — the  thump-thump,  the  other  motion, 
and  the  rushing  through  the  air.  She  would  never 
believe  it.  She  would  say  : 

"Franzl,  thou  art  a  little  boy,  but  a  great 
rogue." 

Ah,  there  was  the  lump  in  his  throat  again.  He 
was  always  forgetting  there  wasn't  any  mother  any 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  37 

more.  He  couldn't  run  home  and  tell  her  any- 
thing. She  would  never  smile  at  him  again,  never 
speak  again. 

The  lump  grew  very  big.  In  the  smoky,  dim 
light,  no  one  noticed  the  homesick,  heartsick,  tired 
little  boy,  squeezed  between  two  broad  peasants, 
the  tears  rolling  down  his  face. 

He  wept  till  he  fell  asleep,  and  dreamed  a  happy 
dream  of  the  swift  mountain-brook  foaming  down 
the  rocks  behind  the  cottage. 


m. 


THE  young  Alexander  was  doubtless  far  less 
proud  of  his  snorting  Bucephalus  than  Franzl  of 
his  clumsy,  rattling,  bright-green  milk-cart.  It  is 
true  that  nothing  better  than  a  horse  has  ever  been 
invented  for  a  boy's  delight,  and  even  if  Alexan- 
der had  no  printing-press,  no  bicycle,  and  no  de- 
tective-camera, he  possessed,  in  his  historic  nag, 
the  best  thing  a  boy  could  then,  or  can  now,  call 
his  own.  Still  he  had  had  other  horses,  as  well  as 
everything  provided  in  those  days  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  Macedonian  youth  and  kings'  sons — 
and  if  there  was  anything  else  in  the  world  which 
he  thought  worth  having,  we  read  that  he  helped 
himself  to  it  later  without  shyness — whereas  Franzl 
had  never  owned  much  of  anything.  If  he  played 
with  a  toy,  it  had  been  of  his  own  construc- 
tion, and  neither  he  nor  any  boy  of  his  acquaint- 
ance had  ever  had  a  story-book.  The  only  books 
they  knew  were  school-books,  for  which  they  en- 
tertained a  healthy  aversion. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  39 

When  he  found  himself  in  command  of  his  milk- 
cart  it  was  a  great  moment  in  his  existence.  Al- 
though in  point  of  fact  he  owned  neither  cart  nor 
milk,  his  sense  of  proprietorship  was  mighty  as 
he  realized  he  was  to  be  sole  propeller  of  all  this 
magnificence.  That  it  was  over-heavy  for  a  little 
boy,  that  the  way  was  long  and  up  and  down  steep 
hills,  that  in  storm  and  wind,  heat  and  cold,  he 
would  have  this  load  to  push  or  drag  after  him,  did 
not  enter  his  thoughts,  for  neither  weather  nor 
work  could  frighten  him.  He  was  proud,  glad, 
eager,  and  ambitious.  It  was  a  distinct  advance  in 
life  besides  being  unexpected.  He  thought  the 
green  wagon  with  the  nine  shining  four-gallon 
milk-cans,  standing  straight  as  a  regiment,  and  two 
measuring-cans  packed  crosswise  in  front,  a  beau- 
tiful and  imposing  sight.  The  pole  was  nearly 
twice  as  long  as  the  little  cart,  and  very  broad  and 
strong,  but  its  uses  were  manifold  and  its  possi- 
bilities more  than  appeared  at  the  first  glance.  As 
it  might  be  attached  to  a  horse,  an  ox,  a  donkey,  a 
cow,  a  dog,  a  man  or  woman,  a  girl  or  boy,  it  was 
made  big  and  adjustable  to  suit  all  their  needs, 
and  none  of  them  ever  found  fault  with  it  for 
being  out  of  proportion. 

Leni  walked  beside  him,  her  grave  eyes  look- 


40  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

ing  straight  before  her,  her  dark  hair  brushed 
smoothly  back  and  hanging  nearly  to  her  knees 
in  one  long,  heavy  braid.  She  apparently  paid  no 
attention  to  the  boy,  and  as  they  had  nothing  to 
say  to  each  other,  and  were  simple  folk,  they 
marched  on  in  silence,  whereas  when  fashionable 
people  have  nothing  to  say,  they  chatter  as  fast  as 
possible,  and  which  is  the  more  sensible  method  is 
entirely  a  matter  of  opinion,  but  it  is  possible  Soc- 
rates might  have  disagreed  with  Mrs.  Grundy  on 
this  and  many  another  point  of  social  etiquette. 

Leni  and  Franzl,  however,  never  having  heard 
of  either  of  these  worthies,  simply  obeyed  their 
own  instinct,  the  young  girl  serious,  absorbed  in 
thought,  the  boy  enchanted  with  the  noise  his  cart 
was  making,  eying  it  keenly,  studying  its  weight 
and  properties,  and  the  best  way  to  draw  it ;  for 
there  was  a  cross-piece  on  the  end  of  the  pole,  be- 
side various  dangling  straps,  which  Franzl  was 
trying  one  after  another  as  fast  as  possible. 

Christian  Lutz's  large  farm  lay  at  some  distance 
beyond  the  village  of  Waldheim.  After  passing 
the  village  the  road  ran  between  thrifty  apple- 
orchards,  was  level,  and  so  hard  and  good  that  the 
cart  almost  went  of  itself  and  gave  little  trouble. 
But  when  they  had  walked  at  a  brisk  pace  for  a 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BO 7.  41 

half-hour  or  more,  they  came  to  a  long,  steep  hill. 
Here  for  the  first  time  Leni  seemed  conscious  of 
her  companion's  presence,  not  that  she  deigned  to 
speak,  but  she  watched  him  and  his  efforts  to  mas- 
ter the  situation. 

It  was  astonishing  how  heavy  and  unwieldy  the 
docile  cart  suddenly  became.  Franzl  pulled  and 
tugged  bravely,  glanced  back  questioningly  as  if  he 
suspected  some  unseen  boy  of  loading  on  extra 
weight,  but  the  cart  did  not  grow  lighter,  the  hill 
stretched  on  before  him,  and  putting  a  stone  be- 
hind a  wheel,  he  stopped  an  instant,  panting  and 
wiping  the  moisture  from  his  forehead  with  his 
sleeve.  Leni  looked  calmly  at  him  as  if  his  strug- 
gles did  not  concern  her.  Franzl  wished  he  had 
not  stopped.  He  would  never  stop  after  he  was 
used  to  it.  He  wondered  what  that  big  cross-piece 
was  for.  Perhaps  to  push.  He  turned  the  cart 
and  began  to  back  it  up  the  hill.  Although  it  was 
still  hard  enough  work,  he  could  use  all  his  weight 
and  so  get  a  purchase  and  manage  the  thing  very 
well  without  losing  more  time. 

"  Eight,"  said  Leni ;  this  one  word,  no  more  and 
no  less,  and  went  on  with  her  unconcerned  air. 

They  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  began  the 
long  downward  slope.  Presently  Franzl  found 


42  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

himself  and  his  cart  careering  along  as  wildly  as  if 
a  separate  demon  sat  enthroned  in  every  milk-can 
and  inspired  the  mad  flight.  The  cart  seemed 
alive,  and  Franzl,  a  mere  helpless  appendage, 
dragged  along  in  its  train.  But  his  was  not  a  spir- 
it that  would  easily  acknowledge  itself  beaten,  and 
by  a  milk-cart,  too !  With  a  strong  effort  he  ran  it 
to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  at  the  risk  of  overturn- 
ing it,  succeeded  in  getting  the  side-wheels  into  a 
ditch.  This  manoeuvre  effectually  controlled  its 
friskiness,  and  the  little  boy  paused  to  take  breath 
and  counsel  with  the  inner  Franzl.  He  was  amazed 
to  discover  what  eccentricities  of  conduct,  what 
headstrong  speed,  and  unmanageable  momentum 
a  placid  milk-cart,  could  upon  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance develop. 

Leni  had  apparently  left  him  to  his  fate.  He 
felt  irritated.  She  might  at  least  stop  and  look 
back.  After  all,  it  was  her  old  father's  old  milk- 
cart.  He  cautiously  put  the  thing  in  the  middle 
of  the  road  again,  uncertain  what  it  would  attempt 
to  do  next,  and  this  time  he  had  the  good  sense  to 
place  himself  in  front  and  bear  back  sturdily  with 
the  strong  little  legs  which  Christian  Lutz  had  spe- 
cially bought  at  the  child-market.  In  this  manner 
he  got  the  recalcitrant  cart  well  in  hand,  and  was 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  43 

relieved  to  see  that  it  could  not  again  take  the  bit 
in  its  teeth  and  run  away  with  him. 

He  now  overtook  Leni,  who  once  more  turned 
her  grave  face  toward  him  and  said  : 

"  Eight." 

They  tramped  on  silent  as  before,  but  when  they 
came  to  the  next  hill  Leni  put  her  hand  on  the 
cross-piece  and  pushed  with  him. 

"  I  know  how  to  do  it  myself,  without  any  wom- 
an-folks," Franzl  informed  her. 

The  young  girl  took  no  notice  of  his  arrogance, 
but  continued  to  help  him.  Again,  at  a  steep  de- 
scent she  made  herself  useful,  steering  the  cart  bet- 
ter than  he  could. 

"You  can't  do  it  all  at  once,"  she  began.  "I've 
gone  with  the  cart  until  to-day." 

"  Oh,  have  you  ?  "  he  returned,  with  more  respect 
than  he  had  hitherto  shown. 

"  I'm  too  old  to  go  with  it,  since  father  can  af- 
ford to  have  somebody  else,"  she  remarked,  quietly. 

"  You  look  awful  old,"  he  assured  her. 

"  I  told  father  to  buy  a  boy  at  Eavensburg.  He 
had  to  go  down  there  to  see  a  man  who  owes  him 
some  money.  I  told  him  he'd  better  get  a  boy. 
You're  not  as  stupid  as  some." 

Franzl,  secretly  flattered,  answered  negligently : 


44  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  I  don't  call  this  much  work.  I  could  pull  a 
heavier  cart  than  this." 

The  tall  strong  girl  looked  kindly  and  with  a 
slight  smile  at  the  breathless,  flushed  little  boy. 

"  It  is  heavy  for  me,"  she  said,  simply,  "  but  that 
is  not  the  reason  why  I  didn't  want  to  pull  it  any 
more." 

"  Did  your  father  buy  me  because  you  said  so  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Does  he  do  everything  you  tell  him  ?  "  he  went 
on,  inquisitively,  thinking  it  would  be  a  lucky  con- 
dition of  things  if  Leni  were  captain,  instead  of 
Christian  Lutz. 

"  When  it  suits  him,  when  he  thinks  it  for  his 
advantage ;  but  not  often,"  she  replied  in  her  se- 
rious fashion.  "Father  is  a  very  prudent  man." 
She  gave  a  little  sigh,  and  Franzl  feared  that  the 
peasant  was  captain  after  all — Leni's  captain  as 
well  as  his  own. 

The  cart  was  now  conducting  itself  with  much 
discretion,  and  FranzTs  joy  was  profound,  especi- 
ally as  he  saw  other  carts  and  other  boys  coming 
into  the  main  road  from  byways.  Reaching  behind 
him  and  before  him  was  a  line  of  green  carts, 
some  drawn  by  dogs,  some  by  women,  many  by 
children,  but  not  a  boy  was  so  small  as  he.  He 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  45 

observed  that  women  with  baskets  of  vegetables 
and  eggs  on  their  heads  joined  the  procession,  all 
bound  for  the  Wynburg  market. 

"I'm  glad  you  told  him  to  buy  me!"  he  ex- 
claimed, warmly. 

"  You  try  to  please  him,"  returned  Leni.  "  He 
is  very  pious.  Nobody  is  so  religious  as  father. 
He's  at  church  as  regular  as  the  parson,"  she  said, 
with  considerable  family  pride.  "  But  if  he  gets 
anything  into  his  head  against  anybody,  nothing 
and  nobody  can  drive  it  out." 

"  I  think  there  is  more  chance  of  pleasing  you," 
Franzl  replied,  heartily,  for  he  was  fast  growing 
used  to  Leni,  and  her  quiet  sensible  face  inspired 
him  with  confidence.  He  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing why  she  was  so  serious.  The  other  women 
were  chattering,  laughing,  calling  to  one  another. 
Leni  bade  them  good-morning  as  she  passed,  but 
joined  no  gossipping  group.  Straight,  tall,  clear- 
eyed,  her  basket  of  salad  on  her  head,  she  went 
steadily  on  with  the  little  boy,  spoke  little  and 
smiled  less,  yet  with  every  step  he  liked  her  better. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  to  him  since  they  had 
carried  his  mother  off  to  the  churchyard.  The 
queer  thing  about  the  lump  in  his  throat  was  that 
he  never  knew  when  it  was  coming. 


46  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Leni,  abruptly. 

"  Nothing,"  Franzl  muttered. 

"Are  you  tired?" 

"No." 

"  Are  you  in  trouble  ?  " 

"Don't  know." 

"  But  you  are  crying." 

"  Girl's  cry  when  they  are  tired.  Boy's  don't," 
he  informed  her,  in  a  proud  but  choking  tone. 

She  smiled. 

"  Girl's  cry  for  a  great  many  reasons,  sometimes 
good  ones,  sometimes  not.  But  it  is  no  sin  for 
them  or  you.  I've  seen  already  that  you  are  no 
baby.  What  is  it,  Franzl  ?  Are  you  homesick  ?  " 

Now  Franzl  did  not  know  what  he  was,  whether 
homesick  or  in  trouble,  or  anything  else.  He  had 
not  slept  much — for  he  had  been  on  his  first  rail- 
way journey — till  late  in  the  night,  and  not  even  a 
boy  can  really  sleep  when  he  is  jolting  up  and 
down  for  dear  life,  besides  being  jammed  as  flat  as 
a  squashed  mosquito  on  the  window-pane.  He  had 
been  walking  for  days,  had  seen  strange  sights  and 
people  (as  wonderful  to  him  as  things  were  to 
the  great  Ulysses  on  his  more  extended  travels)  ; 
he  was  honestly  proud  of  his  cart  and  of  himself, 
and  doubly  pleased  with  his  importance  when  he 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  4T 

beheld  all  his  colleagues  with  carts — many  of  them 
men  and  women.  Just  now  he  happened  to  wish 
his  mother  could  see  him  with  the  cart,  and  the 
lump  came ;  but  the  reason  he  was  crying,  so  far 
as  he  knew,  was  because  something  in  Leni's  voice 
made  him  cry,  and  he  just  wished  she  wouldn't,  so 
there  now  ! 

They  had  come  to  the  cross-roads  where  the  inn 
called  "The  Linde"  stood.  Leni  pointed  to  the 
stone  bench  on  the  corner. 

"  Sit  down  and  rest  a  minute,"  she  said,  at  the 
same  time  slipping  the  basket  from  her  head  to 
the  high  stone  shelf  or  table.  The  child  sobbed 
hard  a  few  moments.  He  had  not  wept  like  that 
since  the  day  his  mother  died. 

Leni  scanned  the  many  roads  winding  away  to 
distant  hills,  and  the  many  figures  far  and  near, 
tramping  by  meadow  and  orchard  and  vineyard. 

"  It  will  be  a  good  market,"  she  said.  "  There's 
old  Mariele  the  butter-woman.  She  has  five  good 
hours  to  walk  and  we  have  only  two,  Franzl." 

"  I  can  walk  a  great  deal  more  than  five  hours," 
he  assured  her,  huskily.  "  I  don't  call  that  much." 

"Come  along  now  and  don't  cry  any  more. 
They  will  think  we  have  been  beating  you." 

Leni  slipped  her  basket  from  the  stone  table, 


48  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

which  was  as  tall  as  she,  to  her  head  and  walked 
on,  saying  nothing  more  until  she  saw  that  the  boy 
was  calm  again. 

"  See  here,  Franzl,  you're  not  a  bad  kind  of  boy. 
I  don't  like  boys  much.  They  are  rough  and  sly, 
and  not  worth  much  till  they  get  older — sometimes 
not  then.  I  have  my  opinion  of  men  folks." 

"  Pauli's  mother  doesn't  think  much  of  them 
either,"  Franzl  remarked,  sagaciously. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"The  woman  who  made  me  sell  myself.  She 
isn't  afraid  for  Pauli.  He's  steady  like  her.  But 
Josef  is  sulky.  He  takes  after  his  father.  And 
they  only  pay  twenty  marks  for  little  Vroni,  but  if 
they  will  be  easy  with  her,  she  doesn't  mind.  I 
suppose  she's  got  cold,  for  she  had  a  shawl  over 
her  head  and  her  man's  hat,  too.  He's  broken  his 
leg  in  two  places.  It's  an  inconvenient  season 
for  broken  legs.  But  men  folks  always  make  all 
the  trouble  they  can,  and  women  folks  always  have 
the  worst  of  it.  Lord,  this  is  a  world  ! " 

Leni  laughed,  but  Franzl  hadn't  the  faintest 
idea  why. 

"  You  have  a  good  memory,"  she  said.  "  Pauli's 
mother  was  kind  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes — like  you,"  returned  the  child,  simply. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  49 

After  a  while  she  rejoined  : 

"  People  don't  call  me  kind  very  often.  You  see 
I  have  my  own  ways.  But  I'll  be  kind  to  you.  I 
promise  you  that.  Some  day  you  may  tell  me 
about  your  home  and  what  made  you  cry.  Not 
now,  for  we  are  coming  into  the  city.  I  suppose 
you  are  lonesome?  I  suppose  you  want  your 
family?" 

"  Oh,  no,  I  don't  want  it  now,"  he  broke  out 
eagerly;  "because  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  do 
with  it,  you  know,  and  I  couldn't  take  care  of  it 
right,  myself;  but  I'm  going  to  have  it  later, as 
sure  as  you  live." 

Leni,  somewhat  preoccupied,  did  not  pay  par- 
ticular attention  to  his  enigmatical  remarks  and 
eagerness. 

"  You  see,  Franzl,"  she  said,  "  some  people  are 
lonesome  with  their  families,  and  some  are  lone- 
some without  them,  and  nobody  can  get  out  of  his 
own  skin." 

"  Oh,  oh ! "  exclaimed  Franzl,  not  at  her  philoso- 
phy, but  because  he  saw  the  city  down  in  the  misty 
valley :  many  church-spires ;  smoke  rising  from  a 
forest  of  chimneys  ;  the  sun  shining  on  metal  and 
glass ;  so  many,  many  houses,  and  a  flood  of  sun- 
light. 


50  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

Recovering  from  his  first  amazement  and  fearing 
that  he  might  have  seemed  too  much  overcome,  he 
said,  superciliously : 

"  It  would  be  handsomer  with  snow-peaks  ! " 

Missing  Leni,  he  looked  back. 

She  was  standing  where  a  narrow  path  from 
some  vineyards  met  the  high  road,  and  a  good-look- 
ing young  man  in  a  blue  blouse  was  talking  ear- 
nestly with  her  by  a  stone  wall. 

"  I  can't  stay,"  Franzl  heard  her  say.  "  You 
oughtn't  to  stop  me  here.  It  will  only  make  more 
trouble.  You  must  have  patience,  Karl." 

"But  can  you  hold  out,  Leni?  Are  you  sure? 
He's  a  hard  man,  your  father." 

"  I  am  his  daughter,  I  am  hard  too,"  and  her 
mouth  set  sternly.  "  Go  back  now,  Karl.  Please 
don't  let  them  see  you.  Half  the  village  is  coming 
down  this  morning." 

Franzl  had  turned  the  cart  that  he  could  stare  at 
them  better,  and  was  listening  with  interest,  but  he 
did  not  hear  what  Karl  answered  just  before  he 
ran  back  into  the  vineyard.  It  seemed  to  please 
Leni,  however,  for  she  smiled  and  smiled  and 
looked  quite  different. 

"Franzl,"  she  began,  hurriedly  rejoining  him, 
"  that  is  our  first  house— the  big  one  by  the  park, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  51 

with  the  piazza  and  garden.  You  must  notice 
everything  and  learn  all  you  can,  so  that  soon  you 
can  come  alone.  They  take  a  great  deal  of  milk 
there  ;  there  are  children,  and  they  want  it  before 
seven,  for  they  go  off  early  to  school.  The  cook  is 
kind.  It  is  a  good  house,  one  of  the  best." 

She  put  her  hand  on  the  pole  and  the  two  to- 
gether ran  the  cart  down  a  short  hill  at  a  break- 
neck pace,  and  with  motion  enough  to  churn  the 
milk.  The  cart  obeyed  Leni  as  a  well-trained 
horse  obeys  its  master,  while  it  still  had  coltish 
tricks  with  Franzl. 

They  crossed  a  paved  court  and  went  up  a  flight 
of  stairs. 

A  door  was  flung  open  at  the  top,  and  a  boy  of 
about  Franzl's  size,  a  small  silver  watch  open  in 
his  hand,  called  imperiously  : 

"  Here,  you  little  rascal,  what  do  you  mean  by 
keeping  me  waiting  ?  You  are  five  minutes  late  !  " 

Franzl  scowled  with  a  will  over  his  big  milk 
can,  while  Leni  said,  coolly : 

"  Then  Herr  Kurt  will  have  to  eat  five  minutes 
less  time  at  breakfast,  or  run  five  minutes  faster  to 
school." 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it,  Leni  ?  " 

"  Don't  scold  that  nice  little  boy !  "  cried  Hilde- 


52  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

gard,  whisking  on  to  the  scene  on  one  toe,  and  try- 
ing ineffectually  to  trill  on  a  very  high  note.  She 
had  once  been  to  the  opera,  and  ever  since  had 
cherished  the  intention  of  becoming  a  great  singer, 
but  sometimes  she  confused  the  spheres  of  the 
prima  donna  and  the  ballet. 

"  Hush,  children,  you'll  wake  mamma,"  said  a  tall 
fair-haired  girl.  "Good-morning,  Leni.  Good- 
morning,  little  boy.  Be  quiet,  children.  Kurt, 
how  can  you  ! " 

"  Oh,  don't  you  wish  I  was  a  deaf-and-dumber  ? 
Mamma  doesn't  mind  my  noise.  She  only  minds 
Hildegard's,"  Kurt  retorted,  mockingly. 

"But  you  are  twice  as  noisy  as  I.  Isn't  he, 
Doris?" 

The  older  sister  drew  them  both  into  the  kitchen, 
which,  with  its  blue  and  white  tiles  and  polished 
copper  saucepans,  seemed  magnificent  to  Franzl, 
but  he  could  not  really  enjoy  the  sight  because 
that  grinning  Kurt  was  looking  at  him.  Franzl 
wished  he  had  him  out  on  the  road  without  any 
women  folks  about. 

But  Leni  was  measuring  the  milk,  and  he  had  to 
attend  to  business,  postponing  his  schemes  of  ven- 
geance and  merely  glaring  after  Kurt's  handsome 
coat  as  it  disappeared  from  view,  when  Doris 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  53 

marched  her  explosive  young  brother  and  sister 
into  the  breakfast-room. 

"  So  this  is  the  boy  ? "  Nanni  the  cook  said, 
kindly.  "  Quite  a  little  man." 

"  You'll  look  after  him  a  bit  at  first,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  but  you'll  come  again  ?  " 

"  To-morrow,  yes,  and  until  Franzl  gets  sensible, 
and  understands." 

"  I'm  sensible,"  Franzl  declared,  as  soon  as  they 
had  left  the  house.  "  I  can  pour  out  that  milk." 

"Pouring  the  milk  isn't  the  hardest  part  of  it," 
she  returned,  dryly.  "  You  looked  as  if  you  wanted 
to  pour  it  on  Herr  Kurt's  head.  Now,  you  cannot 
tell  what  will  happen  in  any  house.  You  have  to 
take  it  as  it  comes,  whatever  it  is.  But  business 
is  business,  and  if  you  undertake  to  bring  people 
milk,  it's  milk  they  want  and  nothing  else.  They 
don't  ask  whether  you  are  footsore  or  hungry,  or 
pleased  or  angry,  or  what  troubles  you've  got  in 
your  heart.  That  isn't  what  they  buy.  They  buy 
milk.  Eemember  that,  Franzl.  That's  what  you've 
got  to  learn.  Besides,  Kurt  isn't  a  bad  fellow, 
either." 

"I'll  punch  his  head,"  Franzl  interrupted, 
fiercely. 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  do,  but  you  can't  when  you 


54  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

are  on  your  rounds  with  the  cart.  It  isn't  honest. 
You  promise  the  people  to  bring  the  milk.  You 
promise  me.  You  say  you  are  big  enough  to  run 
this  business.  Then  you  can't  punch  heads  till 
afterwards.  Besides  you'll  have  too  many  to 
punch.  There  are  too  many  boys.  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

Franzl  did  see.  He  was  obliged  to  acknowledge 
the  force  of  the  argument.  After  thinking  a  while 
he  muttered: 

"But  I'll  remember  them  all  and  punch  them 
some  time." 

Leni  smiled. 

"  Better  forget,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  And  don't 
mind  Kurt.  He  can't  help  it.  He  doesn't  mean 
any  harm.  He's  never  had  anything  to  do  but  to 
go  to  school,  and  play,  and  amuse  himself,  and 
wear  good  clothes,  and  eat  all  he  wants.  If  he 
should  hammer  a  tune  with  an  iron  hammer  on 
their  big  mirror,  his  mother  would  think  it  pretty 
manners." 

"  I'll  hammer  him  !  "  exclaimed  Franzl. 

"  What  for?  We  were  five  minutes  late.  They 
are  our  first  customers.  They  ought  to  have  their 
milk  at  seven,  sharp.  I  usually  get  there  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes  early,  and  have  a  chat  with  Nanni. 
But  you  were  a  little  slower,  not  being  used  to  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BO 7.  55 

cart,  and  then  we  stopped  a  while  at  the  stone 
bench  you  know.  Herr  Kurt  might  have  spoken 
pleasanter,  to  be  sure.  Sometimes  he  oversleeps 
and  is  late  himself.  Still  he  has  a  right  to  his 
milk  at  seven,  and  it  is  the  milkman's  business  to 
remember  that." 

"  I  don't  care  what  he  said,"  persisted  Franzl, 
"  it's  the  way  his  monkey -face  looks  that  makes 
me  mad." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  him,"  Leni  returned,  placidly  ; 
"that's  silly.  I  used  to  mind  such  things  my- 
self, but  going  about  with  the  milk  into  so  many 
houses  year  after  year,  you  learn  a  good  deal. 
Perhaps  you'd  act  worse  than  Kurt,  if  you  never 
had  to  work,  and  when  you  sneezed  somebody 
thought  it  sweeter  than  a  nightingale." 

"I  never  heard  a  nightingale,"  Franzl  said, 
brightly. 

"  You'll  hear  them  this  summer  up  in  the  bushes 
and  low  trees  near  us." 

"  Oh,  what  is  that  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  pointing  to 
a  tall  draped  figure  on  a  high  pedestal  in  the  park 
they  were  passing. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  exactly,"  Leni  replied,  with 
indifference.  "  It  is  a  kind  of  a  big  brown  woman 
without  much  on.  I  saw  her  when  they  were  put- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

ting  her  up.  Then  they  strapped  on  that  cloth  to 
cover  her  through  the  winter,  and  I've  heard  that 
they  are  going  to  unstrap  it  and  uncover  her,  some- 
time this  spring,  and  stand  round  her,  and  make 
speeches  and  sing,  and  the  prince  will  be  there. 
It  is  queer  the  things  they  are  always  getting  up  ; 
but  I  suppose  it  amuses  them,  and  they  haven't 
much  to  do,  and  might  as  well  do  that  as  any- 
thing else." 

"  If  I  didn't  have  anything  to  do,  I'd  do  some- 
thing better  than  that." 

"What  would  you  do?" 

"I'd  ride  on  the  railway  a  whole  year  with  a 
whole  seat  all  to  myself." 

"  I  don't  think  I  should  like  that.  I  should  be 
afraid.  The  rich  people  seem  to  like  statues,"  she 
continued.  "  I  don't  mind  the  white  ones  down  in 
the  King's  park,  they  look  so  clean.  But  this  is  a 
queer  brown  thing.  But  there's  to  be  a  fountain 
and  a  dog's  basin,  and  seats  in  the  shade,  and 
that's  a  good  thing  as  you'll  find,  for  it's  a  long 
pull  from  the  market  in  the  summer,  and  straight 
up  almost  the  whole  way,  and  a  body's  glad  to  rest 
a  minute  and  breathe,  and  you  needn't  look  at  the 
big  brown  woman  unless  you  want  to,"  she  con- 
cluded, carelessly. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  57 

This  was  the  first  art  lecture  which  Franzl  ever 
heard.  Leaving  the  shrouded  Galatea  behind, 
Leni  cheerfully  introduced  him  to  the  next  house 
on  his  beat.  From  this  time  they  were  very  busy, 
being  now  in  the  heart  of  the  city  and  having  to 
serve  customers  rapidly.  Up  and  down  long 
flights  of  stairs,  across  courts,  into  shops,  Franzl 
carried  the  can  and  measures,  and  Leni  let  him 
pour  out  the  milk,  and  even  sometimes  take  the 
money  and  make  change.  He  learned  fast  under 
her  watchful  tuition,  and  kept  the  accounts  in  a 
little  book. 

Everywhere  she  had  a  word  to  say  of  the  families 
to  whose  needs  she  ministered — not  a  long  gossip- 
ping  tale,  but  some  hint  of  the  household  interior 
which  would  have  vastly  surprised  her  customers. 
For  walls  have  ears,  and  cooks  have  tongues,  and 
Leni  among  strangers  was  a  silent  young  person, 
who  could  listen,  observe,  and  learn  much. 

"  They  are  unhappy  in  this  house,"  she  informed 
him,  "all  at  sixes  and  sevens." 

"  Unhappy  in  such  a  beautiful  big  house  ?  " 

"  The  wife  goes  to  balls  all  the  time,  and  the 
husband  is  pale  and  does  nothing  but  work.  He 
takes  his  coffee  alone  when  the  milk  comes.  She'll 
have  hers  in  bed  hours  later." 


58  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Why  doesn't  he  make  her  get  up  and  go  to 
work  ?  I  would." 

"  Here,  Franzl,  we  have  a  pint  to  take  up  five 
flights.  It's  such  a  nice  customer.  You'll  see." 

Up  they  went  to  a  small  room  where  a  hand- 
some young  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves  sat  at  a  table 
littered  with  books  and  papers.  He  was  singing 
so  loud  that  he  did  not  hear  Leni's  first  knock. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are,  Phyllis  ;  and  who  is  the 
curly  pate?  I  thought  you  had  no  brothers  or 
sisters  ?  " 

"  It's  the  new  boy,  Herr  Professor.  Father 
bought  him  at  the  child-market." 

"Professor  in  spe"  remarked  the  young  man, 
holding  a  small  cracked  pitcher  for  Leni  to  fill. 

"  My  compliments  to  your  father.  He  has  eyes 
in  his  head.  Come  here,  you  young  faun." 

He  smoothed  back  Franzl's  tangled  curls  and 
looked  with  so  searching  a  glance  in  the  brown 
rosy  face  that  he  plunged  the  boy  into  profound 
embarrassment,  particularly  as  he  didn't  know 
whether  "  faun "  was  a  term  which  he  ought  to 
resent  or  not. 

"  He's  going  to  bring  the  milk  alone  as  soon  as 
I  teach  him." 

"  What,  a  partner  ?    A  useful  and  respectable 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  59 

citizen  at  his  age?  It  is  more  than  I  am.  1 
shall  miss  you,  Leni.  How  are  things  going  ?  " 
he  asked,  kindly. 

"No  better,  thank  you,"  she  returned  with  a 
blush,  "  about  the  same." 

"  Courage,"  he  said,  heartily.  "  You  are  young 
yet,"  taking  a  little  coffee-machine  from  its  hon- 
orable place  on  a  Greek  Lexicon.  "  If  ever  I 
can  do  anything  for  you,  Leni,  come,  or  send  the 
faun." 

"  You  have  a  kind  heart,  Herr  Professor." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  secretly 
wishing  that  his  bank  account  was  as  kind  as  his 
heart. 

"  What  does  in  spe  mean  ?  "  demanded  Franzl 
the  instant  they  reached  the  street. 

"Oh,  it  doesn't  mean  anything,"  Leni  said, 
calmly.  "  It's  only  his  nonsense." 

"  Why  did  he  caU  me  '  faun  ?  '  What  is  a  '  faun ' 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  suppose  it  is  much  of  anything," 
Leni  replied  with  not  a  trace  of  interest. 

"  What  was  it  he  called  you  ?  What  kind  of  a 
thing  is  a  Phyllis  ?  " 

"  I  never  hear  his  queer  talk,"  she  said,  indul- 


60  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

gently.  "  He  is  so  kind.  You  don't  know  how 
kind  he  is.  Didn't  you  like  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  called  names  I  don't  know 
the  meaning  of,"  Franzl  replied,  with  dignity. 

He  was  silent  and  thoughtful  some  time,  and 
looked  up  occasionally  in  Leni's  face  with  a  puz- 
zled expression.  She  had  seemed  so  wise  and 
old  to  him. 

At  length  he  asked : 

"  Does  he  know  more  than  you  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  she  said,  negligently.  "  He 
doesn't  know  more  about  cows,  or  farming." 

"  Why  does  he  sit  at  that  table  ?  "  he  broke  out, 
impetuously.  "  What  does  he  want  of  such  piles 
of  books  ?  He's  a  big  man.  Nobody  can  make 
him  go  to  school.  Why  doesn't  he  go  out  of 
doors  ?  I'd  go  hunting  and  fishing.  I  wouldn't 
sit  cooped  up  in  the  house ! " 

Leni  looked  surprised. 

"  Why,  what  a  pepper-box  you  are,  about  noth- 
ing! I  suppose  he  likes  his  books.  He  sings 
over  them  and  seems  happy.  And  he  does  go 
hunting  and  fishing  sometimes.  He  doesn't  get 
all  he  wants  in  the  world  any  more  than  some 
other  people." 

"  What's  his  name  ?  " 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  61 

"  Herr  Arno  Theobald." 

"He'd  better  talk  like  other  people  and  go 
a-fishing,"  persisted  Franzl,  doggedly. 

"Perhaps  I'll  tell  you  more  about  him  some 
time.  You  know,  Franzl,  I  don't  tell  tales  about 
my  customers  to  everybody.  It  is  only  because 
you  are  my  partner.  I  don't  know  when  I've 
talked  so  much  as  to-day.  I'm  rather  still 
mostly.  But  you'll  be  careful,  Franzl." 

"  I  know  enough  to  hold  my  tongue.  I'm  not 
a  girl." 

"  I  hope  you  do,"  she  went  on,  earnestly. 
"  And  Franzl — "  hesitating — "  about  that  little 
talk  at  the  side  of  the  road  this  morning — there 
by  the  vineyard — you  won't  say  anything  about 
that,  will  you  ?  Not  to  anybody  ?  It  would  do 
harm.  And  it  wasn't  my  fault.  You'll  under- 
stand when  you're  older." 

Franzl  looked  at  her  with  an  air  of  reproach. 

"  I  understand  now.  I  know  about — lovers" 
he  said,  grandly.  "  I've  seen  some  in  the  Venter 
Thai.  There's  a  good  many  of  them  there." 
He  spoke  with  cold  remoteness  as  of  specimens 
of  an  extinct  race.  "  I  shan't  say  anything  about 
you." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  returned  Leni,  quietly. 


62  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Wait  here,  Franzl,  I'll  go  in  alone.  They  are 
good  people,"  she  explained  when  she  came  back, 
"  old  ladies,  sisters.  I  always  need  a  little  time 
for  them,  they  are  so  interested  in  everything  and 
everybody.  If  you  had  gone  up,  they  would 
have  been  so  surprised,  it  would  have  taken  too 
much  time,  and  I  should  have  had  to  tell  more 
than  I  know  about  you.  Now  come  on  fast. 
Take  care!  Big  teams  can't  turn  out  for  you. 
Here  we  are  at  the  market." 


IV. 


ONE  of  the  prettiest  sights  in  every  great  city  is 
its  market,  and  each  has  its  special  charm:  each 
tells  the  traveller,  intrepid  enough  to  sacrifice  his 
morning  slumbers  and  go  down  among  the  veritable 
pillars  of  society,  a  tale  not  told  by  fashionable 
shops  or  even  monuments  and  museums ;  each 
shows  him  a  picture  not  easily  forgotten,  a  glimpse 
of  warm  pulsating  life.  He  feels  for  an  instant  the 
strong  undercurrent  of  toil  sweeping  on  beneath 
the  surface-bubbles  of  his  easy  existence  ;  he  per- 
ceives much  that  is  beautiful,  much  that  is  rough 
and  repulsive,  more  color,  more  freshness,  more 
smells,  good  and  bad,  than  he  knew  existed,  and 
the  most  sordid  traffic,  the  most  ignoble  haggling, 
detestable  because  greedy,  pardonable,  since  its 
source  is  for  the  most  part  need  and  anxiety  ;  and 
he  goes  away  more  thoughtful  than  he  comes — a 
healthful  condition  for  most  of  us — and  detects,  on 
that  day  at  least,  a  few  fundamental  facts  below  the 
glittering  superstructure  of  his  hotel-dinner. 


64  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

Nowhere  is  the  market  prettier  than  in  Wyn- 
burg.  Where  else  in  the  world  do  so  fascinatingly 
ugly  old  women,  with  their  baskets  of  vegetables 
on  the  ground  in  front  of  them,  sit  and  knit  and 
gossip  in  the  sunshine  on  the  warm  side  of  such 
castle- walls  ?  Where  else  do  so  severely  noble 
towers  rise  from  a  jumble  of  booths  and  carts,  of 
cries  and  calls  in  the  ear-rending  Suabian  dialect  ? 
Where  do  rosy  chestnut-spikes  mass  themselves  in 
such  richness,  and  trees  serenely  claim  their  royal 
right  of  way,  occupy  the  best  places,  and  refuse  to 
yield  to  the  pressure  of  trade.  Where  do  visions 
of  sixteenth  century  knights,  with  a  fierce  troop  of 
mounted  men,  dash  out  of  a  picturesque  arcaded 
quadrangle,  and  create  sad  havoc  among  peaceful 
piles  of  vegetables,  and  incongruous  old  wives 
knitting  in  stolid  unconsciousness  of  their  his- 
toric background  ?  From  the  open  square  behind 
the  church  where  the  Schiller  statue  stands,  down 
to  the  great  glass  building,  the  market  proper  — 
through  the  queer  crooked  tunnel  -  like  streets  di- 
verging from  the  original  market  place  of  centu- 
ries ago,  where  a  few  ancient  patrician  houses 
still  display  their  unmistakable  lineaments  —  the 
whole  region  in  the  heart  of  the  modern  city  is 
full  of  charm  even  without  the  motley  life  which 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  65 

surges  beneath  the  silent  old  towers  three  days  in 
the  week. 

Leni  and  Franzl  were  not  disturbed  by  phan- 
tom knights,  and  the  beauty  of  the  castle  did  not 
enter  their  innocent  thoughts,  which  were  bent 
upon  getting  the  cart  successfully  through  the 
crowd,  and  took  keen  notice  of  the  general  condi- 
tion and  quantity  of  cabbages,  carrots,  spinach  and 
cauliflower,  and  all  manner  of  salads  and  cresses 
from  brook  and  meadow. 

In  the  corner  of  the  market  building  was  Leni's 
stall  with  a  cool  chest  for  her  remaining  supply  of 
milk.  She  had  relapsed  into  her  silent  mood,  say- 
ing only  what  was  strictly  necessary  and  looking 
grave,  almost  stern  indeed.  But  she  gave  Franzl 
a  piece  of  black  bread  and  a  small  cup  of  milk, 
and  told  him  to  sit  down  and  rest  a  few  minutes 
on  a  box  near  her,  where  he  perched  contentedly, 
greatly  relishing  his  repast  and  staring  with  won- 
dering eyes  at  the  ever-moving  crowd  in  the  great 
building  so  full  of  noise  and  light. 

Leni  seemed  to  be  a  person  of  considerable  im- 
portance. Women  employed  by  her  father  came 
to  her  to  report,  ask  advice,  complain  or  gossip  a 
bit.  For  the  most  part  she  sent  them  off  quickly 
with  a  cold  business-like  air,  after  a  few  sharp  in- 


66  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

quiries.  Often  she  would  appear  suddenly  where 
she  was  least  expected  and  listen  silently  to  the 
bargaining  between  a  shrewd  cook  bent  upon  her 
advantage  and  the  equally  shrewd  old  woman 
whose  province  it  was  to  represent  Christian  Lutz's 
interests.  All  her  father's  people  seemed  to  be 
always  aware  of  her  presence,  and  her  still  cold 
manner  had  more  weight  than  the  scolding  and 
abuse  of  the  others. 

"  Proud  thing ! "  Franzl  heard  a  woman,  whom 
Leni  had  reproved  for  some  negligence,  say  spite- 
fully. "  Since  she  can't  have  her  way  with  old 
Christian,  she's  bound  to  have  it  with  us." 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  the  girl," 
sneered  another.  "  Why  doesn't  she  take  Klumpp 
and  be  done  with  it  and  wear  a  decent  face  on  her  ? 
She  can't  do  better  than  the  biggest  farm  for  miles 
around,  even  if  Klumpp  has  got  the  palsy  and  one 
foot  in  the  grave  and  it  isn't  very  lively  at  his 
house.  A  farm  like  that !  What  more  can  a  girl 
want  ?  As  for  Karl,  she  might  as  well  give  him  up 
first  as  last.  Old  Christian  never  changes  his 
mind.  If  she  doesn't  look  out  she'll  fall  between 
two  stools,  and  serve  her  right.  A  man  sixty  years 
old  can't  wait  forever  for  a  silly  girl.  There  she 
goes,  with  a  face  like  a  stone  image  and  not  a  civil 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  67 

word  for  anybody.  What  are  you  staring  at  ?  "  she 
demanded  roughly,  making  a  dive  at  Franzl,  who 
was  listening  open-mouthed  to  these  revelations. 

"  You,"  he  responded,  impudently,  having  sprung 
to  a  safe  distance  and  saluting  her  with  a  series  of 
leers  and  grimaces. 

Leni  beckoned  to  him. 

"Don't  be  silly,"  she  said,  coldly.  "Babies 
make  faces.  Eemember  you  are  in  business." 

He  felt  ashamed,  and  tried  hard  to  look  seriously 
upon  his  new  honors  and  responsibilities,  and  to 
struggle  against  a  tendency  to  enlivening  little  dis- 
sipations, such  as  occasional  whoops  and  yells  in 
the  ears  of  the  people  who  had  walked  half  the 
night  and  were  now  napping  at  their  posts.  He 
was  also  pursued  by  the  gnawing  desire  to  make 
faces  at  persons  who  called  him  "rascal"  and 
"  good-for-nothing  "  and  "  brat,"  terms  which  were 
flung  about  freely  at  the  market,  not  so  much  on 
account  of  the  mischief  that  any  particular  boy  was 
actually  doing,  as  from  a  large  comprehension  of 
the  latent  talent  of  the  genus.  Franzl  finally  made 
a  mental  compromise  between  his  natural  inclina- 
tions and  his  growing  wish  to  please  Leni,  and  de- 
cided to  take  no  notice  of  "  rascal "  or  "  good-for- 
nothing  ; "  but  as  "  brat,"  for  some  occult  reason, 


68  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

was  particularly  obnoxious  to  his  fiery  tempera- 
ment, to  respond  to  it  with  his  most  diabolical  face 
provided  he  thought  Leni  wouldn't  see.  As  for 
boys,  he  didn't  count  them.  A  little  scrimmaging 
and  scuffling  must  go  on  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Even  Leni  didn't  demand  total  abstinence  in  this 
respect  except  when  he  was  on  duty — responsible 
for  the  safety  of  the  cart. 

He  worked  well  all  the  long  day.  Sent  with 
vegetables  after  a  lady,  and  following  her  through 
the  strange  streets  of  the  city,  he  lost  his  way  on 
the  return-trip  and  wandered  about  helplessly  for 
some  time.  Again  Leni  spoke  coldly  to  him : 

"  It  is  babyish  to  lose  your  way.  You  have  eyes, 
you  notice,  and  your  memory  is  good." 

"  In  the  woods  or  the  mountains  it's  different," 
he  stammered,  "  but  the  city  makes  such  a  noise 
and  all  the  streets  look  alike." 

"  Don't  do  it  again,"  she  said,  and  turned  away. 
Franzl  silently  vowed  he  wouldn't,  and,  thus  put 
upon  his  mettle,  and  expected  to  do  his  best,  he 
did  it,  counting  streets,  making  mental  notes  of 
signs,  fountains,  monuments,  conspicuous  buildings, 
anything  that  would  serve  as  landmark,  for  it  cut 
him  to  the  soul  to  hear  the  word  "  babyish  "  from 
Leni's  lips. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  69 

Business  slackened  perceptibly  toward  noon. 
Leni  sent  him  on  an  occasional  errand;  but  he 
had  time  to  think  harder  than  ever  in  his  life  be- 
fore, when  he  really  could  come  to  himself  after 
the  bewildering  changes  of  the  last  few  days,  and 
sometimes  it  seemed  to  him  he  must  be  quite  a 
different  boy  from  Franzl  Eeiner. 

In  the  first  place,  he  felt  as  if  he  had  always 
known  Leni,  yet  he  never  saw  her  before  that  very 
morning.  It  was  very  queer.  It  was  as  if  her 
smooth,  dark  head,  her  quiet  face,  and  her  voice 
had  been  familiar  to  him  always  in  Heilig-Kreuz. 
What  did  those  old  things  mean  by  calling  her 
proud  ?  Proud  girls  wore  gay  clothes  and  beads. 
Leni  was  dressed  in  a  plain  dark  gown,  and  wore 
her  hair  in  a  long  tail  with  no  bright  ribbon  on  it. 
She  looked  all  straight  and  smooth.  Then  she 
wasn't  proud.  That  was  silly.  What  did  they 
mean  by  saying  she'd  better  give  up  Karl  ?  Karl 
was  very  nice.  He  had  merry  eyes.  He  had 
looked  at  her  as  if  he  saw  nothing  else,  not  even 
the  milk-cart.  But  Leni  had  glanced  about  every- 
where as  if  she  was  frightened.  Franzl  wondered 
if  Karl  had  a  gun,  and  if  he'd  ever  shot  a 
chamois.  But  no,  they  had  no  chamois.  The 
mountains  were  too  low.  Perhaps  Karl  had  a  long 


70  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

hunter's  knife.  He  was  big  and  strong.  He 
looked  only  at  Leni.  That  was  because  they  were 
lovers.  Lovers  always  looked  at  each  other.  Max 
and  Luise  did,  and  so  did  Georg  and  Rosine,  and 
Benedikt  and  Beate.  Afterward  something  hap- 
pened, and  Benedikt  went  away  and  Rosine  didn't 
look  at  anybody  for  a  long  time,  and  then  she 
looked  at  Ludwig.  Oh,  yes,  he  knew  very  well 
what  lovers  were.  It  was  foolish  of  Leni  to  sup- 
pose he  didn't.  She  forgot  that  he  was  eleven. 
Of  course  it  was  different  when  you  liked  people 
and  when  you  didn't.  He  liked  Leni.  He  hated 
Kurt.  He  wished  he  had  Kurt's  watch-chain,  and 
would  fight  him  if  ever  he  caught  him  in  the 
street.  When  you  like  people  awfully  it's  lovers. 
That's  the  way  his  father  and  mother  were,  and 
his  mother  and  he,  and  he  and  Loisl.  When  Loisl 
was  big  enough  to  live  with  him,  he  would  buy 
her  a  blue  frock  like  Fraulein  Doris's  with  ribbon 
danglers.  The  mother  said  : 

"  Some  day  you  must  be  together.  Some  day 
you  will  be  a  young  man  and  she  still  a  wee  girl, 
and  you  must  take  care  of  her.  She  is  all  the  fam- 
ily you  have,  my  poor  Franzl,  and  you  are  all  the 
family  she  has.  If  I  could  take  you  both  with  me ! 
The  way  will  be  long  and  hard  for  you,  but  you 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  71 

are  my  brave,  loving  Franzl.  You  will  grow  to  be 
a  man  and  take  care  of  her." 

She  said  it  that  very  last  day  when  she  was  so 
white  and  her  eyes  were  strange.  She  told  him, 
too,  that  it  was  better  for  him  to  go  away,  better 
for  him  and  better  for  the  others,  for  nobody  had 
more  than  enough  in  the  village,  and  there  were 
too  many  boys  already,  and  while  people  were  kind 
and  would  take  care  of  Loisl — his  Reverence  prom- 
ised it — he  must  go  among  strangers  and  work  his 
way,  but  never  forget  his  little  sister.  Perhaps 
something  good  would  happen.  It  did  sometimes. 
All  the  neighbors  would  be  good  to  Loisl.  His 
Eeverence  would  see  to  the  papers  and  send  him 
to  the  child-market.  Konrad  had  gone  three 
springs  ago  and  taken  a  place  for  the  summer,  and 
liked  his  master.  There  were  good  people  every- 
where. If  Franzl  was  good  he  would  find  them. 

Then  she  put  her  two  hands  on  his  head  and 
held  them  there  long — long,  and  his  heart  was 
bursting  because  she  said  she  must  leave  him  all 
alone,  except  for  Loisl,  and  ever  since,  when  he 
thought  of  her,  and  that  was  often,  his  heart 
swelled  and  his  throat  choked. 

It  used  to  be  pleasantest  when  his  father  came 
home  after  a  long  hunting-tour  with  the  strangers. 


72  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

All  the  room  was  bright  when  he  strode  in  with  his 
big  gun,  filling  the  room  with  his  laugh,  and  telling 
everything  that  had  happened.  The  mother  made 
pancakes,  listening  and  smiling  always,  and  Franzl 
sat  on  his  knee  and  laughed  too,  whether  he  un- 
derstood or  not.  After  the  father  was  gone,  the 
room  was  never  so  bright  again,  and  the  mother 
never  smiled  so  and  listened.  Still,  while  she  was 
there,  he  had  not  missed  his  father  so  much.  Now 
he  missed  them  both,  the  mother  most,  for  he  had 
been  always  with  her.  And  here  he  was  on  a  box 
in  the  Wynburg  market,  and  there  was  no  mother, 
no  father,  no  cottage,  no  warm  stove  and  pancakes, 
no  snow-mountains,  no  brook  foaming  over  the 
rocks.  That  was  why  it  often  seemed  as  if  there 
were  no  Franzl  any  more. 

When  he  put  his  hands  over  his  ears  tight,  and 
then  removed  them  suddenly,  and  did  it  again  and 
again,  it  made  the  great  hum — like  big  bees — come 
and  go,  nearer  and  farther.  Leni  said  more  milk 
would  come  down  for  the  evening  customers. 
Then  he  must  take  it  to  more  big  houses.  When 
he  was  a  man  he  was  going  to  have  a  big  house 
himself  and  live  in  it  with  Loisl.  How  much 
would  a  blue  gown  with  danglers  cost,  he  won- 
dered ?  But  first  Loisl  must  have  a  short  red  frock 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  73 

like  Fraulein  Hildegard's.  She  was  a  nice  little 
girl.  She  had  a  leaf  in  her  hand.  He  hated 
Kurt,  and  would  hit  him  the  very  first  chance — 
sure !  That  old  woman  with  the  carrots  had  a  face 
exactly  like  a  nut-face,  such  as  his  mother  used  to 
make  for  him  ;  eyebrows  like  smooches  of  ink ;  a 
nose  that  went  in  before  it  came  out,  and  a  chin 
that  ran  away  into  her  kerchief.  The  nut-woman's 
head  was  stuck  on  a  stick  with  red  sealing-wax. 
The  old  woman's  kerchief  was  red,  and  she  was  like 
a  stick — like  two  sticks  when  she  walked. 

He  wondered  how  long  it  would  take  him  to  save 
money  enough  to  buy  a  big  house  for  himself  and 
Loisl.  When  he  left  Heilig-Kreuz  he  had  meant 
to  have  a  cottage  ;  but  to-day,  seeing  so  many  big 
houses,  he  had  changed  his  mind.  From  his 
pocket  he  slowly  removed  a  piece  of  twine,  several 
smooth  stones,  an  apple  core,  a  lump  of  lead,  a 
rusty  broken  nail,  a  cork,  a  four-bladed  knife  with 
three  blades  gone  and  all  but  the  stump  of  the 
fourth,  a  pill-box,  a  much-chewed  pencil,  a  dead 
beetle,  some  tar,  some  wire,  a  bit  of  green  bottle- 
glass,  a  tin  box-cover  with  a  hole  bored  in  it,  chips, 
beans,  bread-crumbs,  and  finally  the  coin  Christian 
Lutz  had  given  him  at  the  child-market,  the  first 
money  he  had  ever  owned,  together  with  a  bit  of 


74  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

nickel  a  lady  had  paid  him  for  an  extra  errand,  and 
which  Leni  said  he  might  keep,  as  it  was  not  for 
milk. 

Stuffing  his  other  treasures  back  into  his  pocket 
he  regarded  the  big  coin  and  the  little  one  medi- 
tatively. When  he  was  a  man  he  was  going  to  be 
bright  and  strong  like  his  father,  and  Herr  Arno 
Theobald,  and  Karl.  It  was  queer  that  none  of 
them  had  a  big  house.  Why  did  the  cross  old 
men  have  all  the  money  and  farms  and  vineyards, 
and  the  pleasant  young  ones  with  merry  eyes  not 
have  what  they  wanted?  He  wasn't  going  to  be 
like  that.  He  was  going  to  have  what  he  wanted ;  a 
silver  watch  and  chain  like  Kurt's,  and  a  big  house 
— bigger  than  Kurt's — and  he  was  going  to  laugh 
like  his  father  and  look  pleasant  like  Karl  and  Herr 
Arno  Theobald,  for  if  you  looked  stern,  and  had  the 
palsy,  and  a  bald  head,  it  didn't  seem  much  fun  to 
have  vineyards  and  cows. 

He  wished  he  knew  better  how  much  things  cost, 
watch-chains  and  houses,  for  instance,  and  he'd  like 
a  top  very  much.  But  his  mother  said  :  "  Save  all 
you  can  earn."  If  he  got  a  top,  he  wouldn't  have  so 
much  left  for  a  house.  Then  perhaps  he  could  fight 
a  boy  and  get  his  top,  which  would  be  cheaper. 
Some  time  he  would  ask  Leni  some  of  these  things. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  75 

She  came  toward  him,  thinking,  involuntarily, 
little  as  her  life  had  led  her  to  consider  personal 
beauty,  what  a  strikingly  handsome  boy  Franzl 
was  ;  what  a  bold  and  proud  air  the  little  beggar 
had  in  his  shabby,  dirty  clothes.  They  were  too 
bad  to  patch  she  decided,  examining  him  carefully 
as  she  approached.  She  would  soon  make  over  an 
old  coat  of  her  father's  for  the  child.  It  wasn't  re- 
spectable for  Christian  Lutz's  bought  boy  to  look 
so  poor,  and  he  was  a  bright,  affectionate  little  fel- 
low, rags  or  no  rags,  she  concluded,  while  Franzl 
built  his  castles  in  the  air,  gazing  at  his  coins  and 
proudly  rattling  them. 

"Shall  I  take  care  of  them?  "  she  asked. 

He  considered  a  while  before  reluctantly  passing 
them  to  her. 

"  Pockets  have  holes,"  he  said,  gravely. 

"  I  will  help  you  to  save  your  money." 

"  May  I  look  at  it  and  touch  it  when  I  want 
to?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  Then  you'd  better  keep  it.  You  don't  have  to 
fight.  You  see  when  you  fight,  sometimes  you  get 
turned  upside  down  and  lose  things.  I  am  going 
to  save  a  great  deal.  There  are  some  things  I  must 
buy,  some  time." 


76  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

"  It  won't  trouble  me  to  take  care  of  all  that  you 
can  save,"  she  replied,  gently.  "  But  you  must  send 
it  home,  mustn't  you,  Franzl  ?  Your  family  will 
want  it  ?  " 

"  No,  my  family  doesn't  want  it  yet.  I  can  save 
my  money  if  I  want  to." 

"  So  much  the  better." 

"  And  I  do  want  to  because  I  must  have  a  great 
deal  by  and  by,  when  I'm  grown,"  he  went  on,  with 
calm  conviction. 

Leni  was  not  sentimental,  but  she  did  not  look 
without  wonder  and  vague  pity  at  the  ragged  little 
urchin  who  had  sold  himself  for  fifty  marks  to  a 
hard  master,  and  could  yet  speak  in  this  bright, 
sure  way  of  money  and  future  plans. 

"Time  will  tell,  Franzl,"  she  returned,  indul- 
gently. "  The  best  thing  is  to  do  well  what  you 
have  to  do  each  day." 

"  I'm  going  to  have  it,  while  I'm  pleasant-look- 
ing, like  Herr  Arno  Theobald  and  your  Karl,"  he 
went  on,  to  her  astonishment.  "  I'm  not  going  to 
wait  till  I  have  the  palsy  like  old  Andreas  Klumpp^ 
or  get  fat  in  the  waist  like  your  father." 

Leni  colored  deeply  at  his  extraordinary  allu- 
sions and  stared  at  him  in  increasing  surprise. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  a  big  house  and  I'm  going 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  77 

to  hang  my  father's  gun  that  they  are  keeping  for 
me  on  the  wall ;  and  my  family  and  I  are  going 
to  live  there  together.  You  may  live  with  us  too, 
if  you  want  to.  It's  going  to  be  a  bigger  house 
than  Kurt's,  and  I'm  going  to  have  a  longer 
watch-chain." 

"  Franzl,  Franzl,  who  told  you  such  things  ? 
What  do  you  know  about  old  Andreas  ?  " 

"  The  women  were  talking.  That  one  over  there, 
the  one  with  the  big  frog  mouth,  called  you  proud, 
and  the  one  with  the  green-striped  apron  said  you 
couldn't  get  your  way  with  old  Christian  and  so 
you  were  bent  on  getting  it  with  them,"  he  repeat- 
ed, with  scrupulous  exactness.  "  You  aren't  proud, 
are  you  ?  You  haven't  any  beads.  They  don't 
know  what  is  the  matter  with  you.  Why  don't 
you  take  Klumpp  and  be  done  with  it,  and  wear  a 
decent  face  on  you?  What  more  do  you  want 
than  the  biggest  farm  for  miles  and  miles?  As  for 
Karl,  you  might  as  well  give  him  up  first  as  last, 
for  old  Christian  never  changes  his  mind.  If 
you  don't  look  out,  you'll  fall  between  two  stools, 
and  serve  you  right.  A  man  sixty  years  old, 
with  the  palsy  and  one  foot  in  the  grave  can't  wait 
forever  for  a  silly  girl.  It  isn't  very  lively  at  his 
house." 


78  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Leni  listened  with  changing  color.  Her  face 
grew  sad  and  old. 

"Do  you  remember  every  word  you  hear?" 
she  tried  to  ask,  carelessly. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  child. 

"  It  isn't  worth  while.     It  was  silly  talk." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  silly.  Women  are  sillier  than 
men." 

She  stood  a  while  lost  in  troubled  thought. 

The  boy — beautiful,  smiling,  resolute— swung 
his  heels  from  his  high  box,  and,  undaunted  by 
his  rags  and  homelessness,  looked  fearlessly  into 
the  future. 

At  length  Leni  with  a  sigh  roused  herself  from 
her  meditations  and  met  the  frank  gaze  of  his 
happy,  handsome  eyes.  His  rough  curls  were  shin- 
ing in  the  sunlight,  his  cheeks  glowing  like  dark 
peaches.  He  smiled  trustfully,  as  if  he  belonged 
to  her. 

She  hoped  he  would  forget  the  women's  talk. 
It  would  make  her  ill  at  ease  to  feel  that  the  child, 
with  his  dreadful  memory,  was  speculating  upon 
her  most  private  affairs.  Probably  he  wouldn't 
understand  or  think  of  them  much,  even  if  he  did 
repeat  the  spiteful  chatter,  word  for  word,  as  if  it 
were  his  lesson. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  79 

"  Franzl,  you  are  modest,  you  are ! "  she  began. 
"  Why  don't  you  say  you'll  have  the  moon  ?  " 

"  Because  I  can't  live  in  it,"  he  replied,  cheer- 
fully. "I'm  going  to  have  something  I  can  live 
in." 

"  Well,  wishing's  cheap,"  she  returned,  dryly, 
"  for  both  of  us.  In  the  meantime  there  is  al- 
ways work  to  do,  and  here  is  old  Wally  with  the 
evening  milk." 


V. 


FRANZL  worked  with  a  will,  but  as  he  found  him- 
self in  a  community  where  everybody  worked  un- 
remittingly, no  task  surprised  or  dismayed  him. 
While  he  pulled  and  tugged  and  strained  his  young, 
growing  body  to  the  utmost  limit  of  its  strength, 
and  was  dead  tired  every  night  when  he  threw  him- 
self upon  his  bed  of  hay,  in  close  proximity  to  his 
equine  and  bovine  comrades,  the  open  air  and  sun- 
shine, the  winds,  night-dews  and  rains,  all  seemed 
to  exert  happy  and  healthy  influences  upon  him, 
and  he  grew  tall  and  strong  like  a  young  birch 
by  the  brookside. 

He  never,  perhaps,  had  quite  all  that  he  could 
eat;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was  not  incom- 
moded with  headache,  stomach-ache,  and  other 
ills  which  made  Kurt  von  Normann  extremely 
peevish  and  uncomfortable  on  the  day  after 
Christmas,  and  the  days  after  birthdays  and  all 
high  family  feasts,  when  people  indicate  their 
affection  and  felicity  by  eating  too  many  sweets. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT,  81 

Every  day  Franzl  rose  at  half-past  four,  and 
took  his  milk  to  the  city,  walking  up  and  down 
hill  two  hours  or  more,  those  beautiful,  fresh, 
spring  mornings,  and  making  his  rounds  punctu- 
ally. The  three  market-days  he  remained  all  day 
in  Wynburg,  returning  usually  with  Leni  toward 
evening.  On  other  days  he  went  directly  back  to 
Waldheim  and  worked  on  the  farm  or  in  the  vine- 
yards— weeding,  digging,  mending  walls,  feeding 
cattle  and  pigs  and  hens — wherever,  in  short,  he 
could  be  made  useful.  As  it  never  occurred  to 
him  that  anyone  was  stronger  or  abler  than  he — 
humility  not  being  his  chief  virtue — he  was  often 
laughed  at  for  attempting  the  impossible,  but  his 
willingness  and  zeal  won  respect  even  from  the 
older  farm-laborers,  and  Lutz,  who  never  praised 
or  seemed  satisfied  with  anybody's  efforts,  secretly 
felicitated  himself  upon  his  shrewdness  in  select- 
ing the  little  Tyrolean's  muscle  and  staying-power 
from  all  the  young  flesh  at  the  Ravensburg  mar- 
ket. 

Franzl  soon  learned  a  fine  control  of  his  milk- 
cart,  and  steered  it  coolly  at  a  breakneck  pace 
down  the  steepest  roads.  When,  in  the  morning 
or  evening  twilight,  twenty  or  thirty  boys  by 
chance  appeared  simultaneously  on  the  same  hill, 


82  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

shouting  and  hooting  and  careering  like  demons, 
rattling  and  running  their  carts  like  mad,  they 
seemed  a  wild  horde  of  outer  barbarians  coming 
with  hideous  machines  of  destruction  to  invade  a 
peaceful  land  rather  than  simple  rustics  minister- 
ing to  innocent  domestic  needs.  Among  them  all 
no  one  yelled  in  a  more  demoniac  fashion,  none 
drove  his  chariot  with  more  apparent  recklessness, 
more  real  ability  and  aplomb,  than  Franzl. 

He  felt  a  peculiar  sense  of  ownership  in  the 
houses  on  his  circuit,  and  every  tale  which  Leni 
told  him  that  first  morning  remained  sharp  and 
clear  in  his  mind.  "  This  is  the  house  where  the 
pale  man  works  hard  and  the  woman  goes  to  par- 
ties all  night  and  takes  her  coffee  in  bed  at  noon." 
"This  is  the  house  where  nothing  particular 
happens."  "This  is  where  everybody  is  always 
OD  horseback."  "  Here  is  the  cross  cook."  "  This 
is  where  they  always  try  to  get  the  milk  a  penny 
cheaper."  "In  this  house  the  two  kind  old  ladies 
want  to  know  everything  and  are  always  so  sur- 
prised and  '  Oh  '  and  '  Ah '  till  one  can  hardly  get 
away."  "  This  is  where  there's  a  nice  fat  baby, 
bigger  than  Loisl,  and  not  so  puckery,"  and  it 
would  have  been  a  shock  to  the  nurse's  nerves, 
had  she  suspected  that  the  rather  dirty  little  milk- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  83 

boy,  who  looked  up  so  curiously  at  the  child  in 
her  arms,  was  thinking  how  much  he  would  like  to 
see  its  toes. 

Best  of  all  he  enjoyed  going  to  the  Normann's 
beautiful  home,  and  to  Herr  Arno's  room  under  the 
roof.  The  young  man  was  handsome  and  strong, 
kind  and  merry,  and  would  indeed  have  been 
altogether  perfect  in  Franzl's  eyes  if  it  were  not 
for  the  queer  and  puzzling  words,  which  had  a  pe- 
culiar effect  upon  the  child  and  made  him  uncom- 
fortable and  restive.  In  his  new  atmosphere  he 
was  indeed  roused  necessarily  to  a  certain  sur- 
prised consideration  of  language,  since  at  every 
step  he  was  confronted  with  differences  between 
his  Tyrolean  speech  and  the  harsher  Suabian  dia- 
lect and  his  peculiarities  of  accent  and  phrase  in- 
duced much  free  comment  and  laughter.  Still  it 
was  easy  enough  to  learn  to  adjust  his  language  to 
his  surroundings,  and  above  all  to  find  out  what 
working-people  meant.  Often  Herr  Heinrich,  a 
friend  of  Herr  Arno,  was  there,  and  then  the  words 
were  awful ;  but  they  caused  Franzl  no  lasting 
distress  unless  addressed  to  him.  One  morning 
Arno,  chatting  with  his  friend,  happened  to  call 
the  beautiful  rosy  boy  pouring  milk  into  the 
cracked  pitcher  a  Ganymede,  whereupon  Franzl 


84  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

ran  off  brusquely,  feeling  unhappy  and  desper- 
ate. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  he  wouldn't,"  he  thought.  "  I'd 
rather  he  would  call  me  '  Brat '  and  be  done  with 
it.  When  he  smiles  and  looks  so  pleasant,  and 
I'm  not  expecting  anything  in  particular,  and  he 
fires  one  of  those  awful  names  at  me,  I  feel  as  if 
I  should  burst." 

"What  does  Ganymede  mean?"  he  asked  Leni 
that  night. 

She  was  exceedingly  busy. 

"  Oh,  Franzl,  don't  be  tiresome,"  she  returned. 
"How  should  I  know?  It's  Herr  Arno's  non- 
sense again,  isn't  it  ?  What  on  earth  does  it  mat- 
ter?" 

"  But  do  you  know  ?  "  the  boy  persisted. 

"No." 

"Does  Karl  know?" 

"  No,  he  doesn't.  He's  got  something  better  to 
do." 

"  Does  your  father  know  ?  " 

"Not  he." 

"  Does  Andreas  Klumpp  know  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not." 

"Well,  then,  who  does  know?  " 

"  Why,  people  like  Herr  Arno,  to  be  sure.     No- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  85 

body  who  has  to  work  bothers  about  words.  But 
in  the  school  they  must  know,  Franzl." 

"No,  they  don't.  I've  been  to  school  myself, 
and  I  never  heard  any  such  talk." 

She  wondered  at  his  dreary  manner,  and  said, 
kindly: 

"  I  wouldn't  trouble  my  head  about  it.  It  has 
nothing  to  do  with  us  or  with  work.  It  goes  in 
one  ear  and  out  the  other  when  I  hear  it.  I'd  for- 
get if  I  were  you." 

"  I  can't,"  he  replied,  gloomily.  "  I  try  to,  but 
I  remember  every  word.  There's  an  awful  lot 
of  them  now.  Seventeen  from  '  Phyllis — '  '  in 
spe — '  '  faun — '  to  '  Ganymede.'  That's  the  worst 
yet." 

By  dint  of  much  reflection  it  gradually  became 
clear  to  him  that  there  were  more  than  two  kinds 
of  people  in  the  world.  Between  rich  and  poor  he 
perceived  differences  unsuspected  in  the  Venter 
Thai;  not,  however,  vast  differences  when  both 
classes  worked.  Christian  Lutz  was  rich,  and  he, 
Franzl,  was  poor ;  but  as  he  was  going  to  be  rich 
by  and  by,  and  as  Lutz  worked  as  hard  as  any  of 
his  farm-hands,  the  distinction  did  not  seem  like  a 
yawning  chasm  between  them.  Between  people 
who  worked  and  people  who  didn't  there  was  a 


86  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

more  amazing  difference,  Franzl  concluded,  and 
speculated  much  upon  it ;  the  lady  who  never  got 
up  in  the  morning,  for  instance,  and  the  family 
who  were  always  in  the  saddle— surely  they  were 
rich,  yet  not  like  rich  Christian  Lutz.  He  saw 
this  plainly  and  it  puzzled  him.  He  had  been 
categorically  taught  that  laziness  was  a  sin,  also 
that  people  who  didn't  work  must  sooner  or  later 
starve.  Among  his  milk  customers  he  discovered 
many  who  neither  worked  nor  starved,  and  who 
did  not  appear  to  regard  themselves  as  sinners. 
But  clearest  of  all  grew  his  new  conviction  that 
there  was  still  another  difference  between  people, 
the  great  mysterious  one  of  ivords,  for  he  began 
to  suspect  that  Hen*  Arno  had  no  monopoly  of 
them.  Franzl  had  positively  ascertained  that  none 
in  his  immediate  circle  knew  or  cared  about  the 
hidden  meaning  of  Theobald's  language.  Then 
who  did  know  and  care  ?  Herr  Heinrich  for  one. 
The  people  on  the  road  talked  of  prices.  Coming 
and  going  from  market,  it  was  always  how  much 
things  cost.  The  men  in  the  village,  too,  talked  of 
either  prices  or  crops.  Why  didn't  people  all  talk 
alike  ?  If  Herr  Amo  would  fling  queer  words  at 
him,  angrily,  they  wouldn't  occupy  him  an  instant. 
He  knew  what  to  do  and  how  to  feel  when  he  was 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  87 

insulted.  But  the  kind  voice  and  smile  were  what 
made  him  wretched,  and  caused  the  mysterious 
talk  to  mercilessly  haunt  and  perplex  him.  Some 
days  Herr  Arno  said  nothing  incomprehensible,  and 
the  child  breathed  freer,  for  his  list  was  long  and 
every  new  word  caused  him  fresh  aggravation.  He 
ha,d  a  way  of  muttering  rhythmically  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  a  creaking  wheel,  and  many  a  mile 
he  tramped  saying  his  words,  like  a  witch's  charm 
or  some  ancient  chant,  with  never  a  mistake  ;  and 
it  is  a  pity  some  great  philologist  did  not  hear  the 
boy  ;  for  while  the  scholar  would  not  have  had  the 
faintest  inkling  of  the  truth,  and  could  not,  with 
Franzl's  arbitrary  division  of  syllables — to  make 
them  fit  the  cart-accompaniment — have  distin- 
guished the  words,  he  would  have  discovered  in 
the  innocent  prattle  the  remains  of  some  primi- 
tive folk-song,  with  familiar  Aryan  roots,  upon 
the  strength  of  which  he  would  have  promulgated 
highly  erudite  theories,  to  his  enduring  satisfac- 
tion and  renown  and  the  envy  of  his  colleagues. 

Many  important  things  occupied  Franzl's  alert 
mind.  The  birds  in  the  beautiful  woods — through 
which  he  passed  twice  a  day  —  a  pond  where 
there  was  a  prosperous  commonwealth  of  frogs, 
lizards  on  the  vineyard  -  walls,  all  the  orchards 


88  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

and  fields  of  grain,  all  the  people,  all  the  horses 
and  dogs.  There  was  always  enough  to  think  of, 
both  on  the  long  country  road  and  down  in  the 
busy  city.  Indeed  he  never  felt  that  he  had  got 
his  thinking  half  done,  and  he  wished  he  did  not 
fall  asleep  the  instant  he  closed  his  eyes  at  night, 
for  if  he  could  only  have  stayed  awake  a  while, 
he  might  have  gotten  rid  of  some  odds  and  ends 
of  thought  which  he  never  quite  knew  what  to  do 
with. 

The  Normanns  were  a  daily  source  of  pleasure, 
excitement,  and  wrath  to  him.  The  pleasure  and 
excitement  began  with  the  sight  of  the  major  in 
a  splendid  uniform,  who  usually  rode  out  of  his 
court-yard  as  Franzl  and  his  cart  came  in.  The 
boy  would  pull  off  his  cap,  the  major  responded 
with  a  fine  salute  and  a  smile.  Wrath  followed 
speedily.  Kurt,  for  no  reason  in  particular,  but 
merely  because  he  had  happened  to  begin  the 
acquaintance  with  hostilities — perhaps,  too,  from 
contrariness,  since  his  sisters  praised  the  little 
milk-boy — lost  no  opportunity  to  make  himself 
odious  to  Franzl,  who  remembered  every  offence 
as  faithfully  as  Herr  Amo's  words,  and  stored  them 
away  against  the  day  of  reckoning.  Nanni,  the 
cook,  was  a  kind,  motherly  soul,  whom  experience 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  89 

had  taught  that  boys  can  always  eat,  even  if  they 
are  fed  upon  the  fat  of  the  land  ;  also,  that  a  milk- 
boy  is  not  apt  to  be  pampered,  no  matter  how 
rosy  and  bright  he  looks.  Being  a  privileged  per- 
son in  the  Normann  household,  she  put  aside  many 
good  things  for  Franzl.  The  pretty  young  lady, 
Fraulein  Doris,  he  seldom  saw  unless  the  children 
were  quarrelling  worse  than  usual.  Fraulein 
Hildegard  frequently  honored  him  with  her  pres- 
ence, for  she  was  a  lively  young  person  who  made 
it  a  point  to  appear  wherever  anything  was  going 
on.  At  this  time  of  the  morning  very  little  was 
going  on  except  the  kitchen.  Hildegard  was  curi- 
ous as  a  magpie,  and  liked  to  see  everybody  who 
came,  whether  by  the  visitors'  or  servants'  en- 
trance. As  she  was  also  kind,  there  was  all  the 
more  reason  why  she  should  pirouette  into  the 
kitchen  and  keep  a  restraining  sisterly  eye  on  Kurt, 
who  was  habitually  hateful  to  that  nice  little  boy. 

Hopping,  twirling,  standing  on  one  leg  like  a 
stork,  she  seemed  to  regard  herself  as  a  theatre 
and  enjoy  her  own  performances  hugely.  She 
sang  her  most  ordinary  requests,  and  always  had 
a  leaf  or  twig  in  her  hand  or  mouth.  Franzl  ad- 
mired her  vastly. 

One  day  s^he  said  to  him  : 


90  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Little  boy  " — she  always  called  him  little  boy, 
although  he  was  bigger  than  she — "don't  you 
want  to  bring  me  some  pussy-willows?  I  saw 
some  yesterday  when  we  were  driving,  and  mamma 
wouldn't  stop  to  let  me  get  them.  They  are  on 
the  bank  by  the  little  bridge  where  you  come 
every  day." 

He  agreed  gladly,  and  she  told  him  he  was  the 
nicest  little  boy  she  ever  saw. 

He  brought  her  a  great  bunch  of  catkins  the 
very  next  morning.  Hildegard  was  delighted.  He 
did  not  see  Kurt,  and  Nanni  gave  him  a  generous 
slice  of  cake,  with  plums  in  it,  for  which  three 
reasons  he  left  the  house  in  high  spirits.  But 
alas !  the  innocent  catkins,  like  Beauty's  rose,  were 
destined  to  make  mischief.  Herr  Arno  gave  him 
no  trouble  that  day.  Toward  noon  he  was  on 
his  homeward  journey,  whistling  and  singing  in  a 
contented  frame  of  mind.  As  the  sun  was  hot  on 
the  long  hill,  he  stopped  an  instant  in  the  shade 
of  the  little  park  in  front  of  the  Normanns'  house 
listening  to  the  cool  plash  of  the  fountain,  mildly 
regarding  the  big  brown  woman,  and  wondering 
why  they  had  put  up  those  four  awfully  queer 
things — half  woman  and  half  cat — on  the  terrace 
by  the  fountain,  and  if  there  were  really  cat- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  91 

women  or  women-cats,  with  that  queer  stare  and 
their  paws  stretched  out.  Suddenly  Kurt,  carry- 
ing some  books  with  a  strap,  came  up  the  wind- 
ing walk  through  the  shrubbery  to  the  open 
lawn  where  Franzl  stood  with  his  cart.  Now 
Kurt  was  in  the  worst  possible  humor.  His 
father  had  promised  him  a  horse  if  in  a  certain 
examination  he  should  be  No.  1  in  Latin  and 
mathematics.  He  had  worked  hard  and  felt  con- 
fident of  success.  Whether  he  had  been  too  ex- 
cited or  too  sure  he  did  not  know,  but  to  his  over- 
whelming disgust  and  irritation  two  fellows,  who 
usually  stood  below  him,  had  passed  in  better  pa- 
pers, and  although  first  in  Latin,  he  found  himself 
third  in  mathematics ;  an  honorable  enough  place 
in  a  class  of  forty,  but  he  knew  his  father,  and  that 
there  would  be  no  horse  for  Kurt  Normann  this 
time.  He  had  bragged  of  the  horse  far  and  wide. 
That  was  the  trouble.  Friends  as  well  as  enemies 
had  not  refrained  from  pointed  allusions  to  this 
famous  steed,  and  Kurt,  angry,  mortified,  and 
ready  to  vent  his  spleen  on  the  first-comer,  came 
slowly  home  from  his  failure. 

Franzl,  from  habit,  scowled  fiercely  at  the  ap- 
proaching foe.  Kurt  stopped,  and  all  his  rage 
against  himself,  his  teachers,  his  comrades,  the 


92  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

world,  and  fate,  seemed  to  concentrate  itself  in  a 
desire  to  quarrel  with  this  insolent  milk-boy  stand- 
ing motionless  by  his  cart. 

"Here,  you  dirty  little  beggar,"  Kurt  began, 
with  no  plan  of  attack  whatever,  but  conscious  of 
vague  and  vast  belligerent  intentions,  "what  do 
you  mean  by — by — by — by  bringing  catkins  to 
my  sister  ?  "  he  concluded  with  sudden  inspiration. 

Here  was  Franzl's  longed-for  opportunity,  but 
there  was  the  milk-cart.  It  had  grown  to  be  sec- 
ond nature  to  take  care  of  the  insignia  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  Leni's  precepts  had  sunk  deep  with- 
in him.  One  hand  still  on  the  pole,  he  stood 
poised  ready  to  spring. 

"  You  keep  your  weeds  for  your  own  dirty  little 
sister,"  Kurt  sneered,  as  a  purely  random  shot, 
"  and  let  mine  alone.  If  I  see  any  more  of  them 
in  my  house  I'll  switch  you  with  them." 

At  this  moment  a  young  man  who  was  sitting  on 
a  bench  with  his  back  turned  came  toward  them. 

"  I  say,  Kurt,"  he  began — 

But  before  he  could  finish,  Franzl  had  swung 
the  cart  round,  thrust  the  pole  into  Herr  Arno's 
hand,  and  flung  himself  with  all  his  strength  upon 
the  boy  who  had  insulted  his  sister. 

Arno,  recovering  from  his  surprise,  gravely  ac- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  93 

cepted  the  trust,  sat  down  on  a  stone  moulding, 
and  let  the  boys  fight.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
a  sound  thrashing  might  be  a  desirable  sanitary 
measure  for  Kurt  Normann,  and  something  that 
had  failed  for  some  time.  There  was  also  a  cer- 
tain humorous  satisfaction  in  the  consciousness 
that  Kurt's  mamma,  who  systematically  spoiled 
him  and  prevented  him  from  being  the  good  fel- 
low he  might  otherwise  become,  was  in  the  house, 
whose  windows  looked  over  garden -walls  and 
shrubbery  upon  the  field  of  battle  where  her 
high-born  darling  was  about  to  be  thrashed  by  a 
milk-boy.  For  Arno  had  not  the  faintest  doubt 
as  to  the  result  of  the  contest.  Kurt  was  going 
to  be  unmercifully  beaten. 

The  boys  were  evenly  matched  as  to  size.  Kurt 
was  the  older,  and  well-trained  in  gymnastic  exer- 
cises ;  but  no  gymnasium  three  times  a  week  could 
do  for  a  boy  what  the  mountains  and  hard,  con- 
stant, open-air  work  had  done  for  Franzl.  More- 
over, he  was  by  far  the  angrier  of  the  two,  and 
this  was  half  the  battle.  "His  strength  was  as 
the  strength  of  ten,"  not  "because  his  heart  was 
pure,"  but  because  he  was  so  very  "mad,"  while 
Kurt  was  already  more  than  half -ashamed  of  him- 
self. 


94  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Arno  observed  that  Franzl,  instead  of  spending 
his  force  at  once  in  his  first  furious  attack,  seemed 
to  have  endless  reserve-power.  He  showed  no 
weariness,  but  grew  fiercer  and  stronger,  not  how- 
ever from  contact  with  mother  earth;  for  while 
Kurt  was  frequently  down,  gaining  dirt  but  no 
strength,  Franzl  remained  firm  on  his  feet.  Kurt 
fought  well  and  bravely,  but  Arno,  silently  watch- 
ing them,  thought  best  to  interfere. 

"  There,  that's  enough  for  to-day,  boys.  Stop, 
Franzl.  Hold  up,  I  say."  But  Franzl  did  not  or 
would  not  hear  or  stop  until  forcibly  removed. 

"  Kurt,  you'll  have  to  admit  you're  well  thrashed." 

Kurt  said  nothing.  There  was  blood  on  his 
face,  a  button  had  cut  his  lip,  his  eye  was  puffing 
fast,  his  coat  was  torn,  his  watch  and  chain  lay  on 
the  ground,  his  wrist  was  lame,  his  leg  felt  queer, 
and  his  head  ached. 

"You  acknowledge  yourself  fairly  beaten,  do 
you  ?  "  Arno  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy,  faintly,  feeling  dizzy  and 
dropping  upon  a  bench. 

Franzl  stood  panting,  glowing,  triumphant,  his 
feet  still  braced,  his  hands  on  his  hips,  his  eyes 
contemplating  that  silver  watch  and  chain  lying 
low  in  the  dust. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  95 

"  Go  in  and  ask  Nanni  to  look  after  you,  Kurt. 
I  shall  have  to  tell  you  that  I  think  you  deserved 
it.  I  heard  what  you  said  to  him.  That  is  why  I 
didn't  interfere.  Now  it's  none  of  my  business 
perhaps,  but  what  has  he  ever  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  Kurt,  frankly  enough. 

"Then  what  under  heaven  induced  you  to  try  to 
bully  him  in  that  fashion?  "  Arno  demanded  with 
considerable  disgust. 

"I  was  red-hot  mad  about  something  else,"  Kurt 
returned,  with  a  feeble  grin  that  was  very  one- 
sided on  account  of  the  aldermanic  proportions  his 
face  was  rapidly  assuming. 

"  Your  examination  ?  "  Arno  asked,  quickly. 

Kurt  nodded. 

"  Oh !  oh !  "  exclaimed  the  young  man,  signifi- 
cantly. "  And  you,  Franzl,  what  have  you  against 
Kurt?" 

"I  hate  him,"  Franzl  returned  with  cheerful 
promptness,  "  and  he  said  something  nasty  about 
my  family." 

"Yes,  I  heard  it.  I'm  not  a  great  friend  of 
fighting,  but  from  your  point  of  view  I  don't  see 
how  you  could  have  declined  with  dignity  after 
that  provocation.  Come  here  and  let  me  congrat- 
ulate you.  My  sympathies  are  entirely  with  you." 


96  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

He  held  out  his  hand  and  Franzl,  proud  and  radi- 
ant, shook  hands  with  him. 

"  But  you  are  satisfied  now,  Franzl?  You  don't 
thirst  for  any  more  blood  ?  " 

"  If  he  lets  me  alone  I'll  let  him,"  the  boy  re- 
marked, succinctly. 

"  You  hear,  Kurt,  do  you  ?  "  and  Arno  stooped 
to  pick  up  a  paper  book  which  had  fallen  from 
the  schoolboy's  strap.  Brushing  the  dust  from  a 
page,  which  Franzl  saw  was  covered  with  queer, 
curly  writing,  the  young  man  remarked:  "You'll 
have  to  recopy  this  Greek.  It  is  too  dirty  to  hand 
in.  I  don't  like  to  preach  when  you  are  in  that 
plight,  Kurt ;  but,  upon  my  word,  I  thought  you 
were  more  of  a  gentleman.  If  you  don't  choose  to 
remember  that  '  Noblesse  oblige '  is  your  Normann 
device,  it  is  useless  for  me  to  remind  you,  I  sup- 
pose. But  as  an  old  friend  of  the  family  permit 
me  to  say  that  if  honor  doesn't  restrain  you,  pru- 
dence should,  for  this  young  Berserker  can  slay 
you  without  over-exerting  himself.  Now  shake 
hands,  boys." 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  slaying,"  Kurt 
returned  quickly,  hobbling  forward  on  his  lame 
foot  and  with  his  lame  hand  extended.  "Here, 
Franzl,  it's  all  right.  You  can  bring  anything  you 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  97 

like  to  Hildegard.  I  only  said  that  because  I  was 
in  no  end  of  a  temper.  I've  always  been  teazing 
him,  you  know,"  turning  to  Arno,  "  and  I  do  care 
about  '  noblesse  oblige.'  " 

But  what  was  the  matter  with  Franzl  ?  He  was 
turning  his  cart  as  fast  as  possible,  and  all  the  joy 
of  victory  had  vanished  from  his  face.  It  seemed 
to  Arno  that  Kurt,  after  all,  was  behaving  gal- 
lantly, since  it  is  always  easier  for  the  victor  to 
forgive  than  the  vanquished.  What,  then,  had 
seized  the  conqueror's  bright  spirit  ?  Why  was  he 
slinking  off  in  this  fashion,  ignoring  Kurt's  gen- 
erously proffered  hand.  He,  Franzl,  who  always 
seemed  so  ardent  and  warm-hearted  ? 

"Franzl,"  Arno  called,  "don't  go.  Shake  hands 
with  Kurt  first,  to  show  there's  no  ill-will." 

"Wait  a  minute,  Franzl,"  Kurt  called,  limping  a 
few  steps  after  him. 

But  Franzl  paid  no  heed.  He  went  as  fast  as 
he  could  stride  from  the  scene  of  his  triumph  and 
his  bitter  disappointment. 

"  Eighteen — nineteen,"  he  was  saying  to  himself 
in  utter  hopelessness.  "'Berserker'  and  'bles- 
bleege,'  and  Kurt  knows  what  they  mean — and 
says,  '  blesbleege  '  himself !  " 


VI. 


AENO  THEOBALD,  although  in  reality  a  happy, 
healthy,  and  fortunate  youth,  had  in  his  own  opin- 
ion his  share  of  work,  care,  trouble,  and  uncertainty 
of  a  peculiarly  absorbing  and  delicate  nature,  and 
therefore  thought  little  of  the  juvenile  fight  in 
which  he  had  acted  as  umpire,  and  which  was  a 
crisis  in  Franzl's  history.  But  when  the  little 
milk-boy  appeared  the  next  morning,  shy,  grave, 
and  more  hurried  than  usual,  Arno  remembered 
the  child's  abrupt  departure,  and  was  led  to  instil 
into  his  rustic  mind  some  idea  of  the  etiquette 
of  the  duel,  even  of  the  crude  and  primitive  duel 
with  fists. 

"  How  are  you,  Franzl?  No  bones  broken,  I  see. 
By  the  way,  why  did  you  go  off  so  quickly  ?  Why 
wouldn't  you  shake  hands  with  Kurt  ?  " 

As  Franzl  said  nothing,  Arno  concluded  that  he 
was  still  sullen  and  unforgiving,  which  seemed 
natural  enough  on  the  part  of  a  poor  boy  whom 
Kurt  Normann  had  persistently  insulted.  Arno 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  99 

liked  boys,  and  had  a  special  interest  in  boys  of 
Franzl's  condition,  was  used  to  them,  and  succeeded 
ordinarily  in  understanding  them  tolerably  well. 

"Now  Franzl,"  the  young  man  went  on,  good- 
humoredly,  "  you  really  ought  to  have  shaken 
hands  with  him.  That's  the  thing  to  do.  For  in- 
stance, two  men  come  to  fight  with  swords  or  pis- 
tols. There  is  some  deadly  wrong,  or  ought  to  be, 
if  they  get  as  far  as  that.  Well,  suppose  they  are 
snorting  fire  and  brimstone.  They  slash  or  shoot. 
They  draw  blood.  We  won't  make  it  fatal  this 
time.  We'll  only  let  them  be  scratched  a  bit  like 
Kurt  yesterday.  Then  they  shake  hands.  The 
witnesses  shake  hands.  Everybody  shakes  hands." 

Franzl,  interested  in  spite  of  himself  in  this  tale 
of  swords  and  pistols,  had  forgotten  his  grievances 
and  drawn  near  the  table,  smiling  his  winning, 
trustful  smile. 

"  And  when  you  and  I  consider  it  in  cold  blood, 
it  is  the  stupidest  thing  in  life,  because  if  it  is 
possible  for  them  ever  in  God's  world  to  be  suffi- 
ciently reconciled  to  grasp  each  other's  hands,  then 
it  would  be  wise  to  anticipate  the  action  of  time 
upon  their  enmity  and  shake  hands  in  the  first 
place.  People  don't  often  hate  as  hard  as  they 
imagine  they  do.  But,  Franzl,  this  is  how  a  man 


100  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

talks  when  he  is  not  angry,  and  when  he's  angry 
his  blood  boils  as  yours  did  yesterday,  and  he 
doesn't  think  any  more.  Then  he's  a  beast.  I'm 
sorry  to  say  I've  been  one  a  few  times  in  my  life. 
All  the  same,  fighting  is  as  stupid  as  it  is  wicked. 
Remember  I  don't  blame  you  at  all  for  fighting 
Kurt.  When  you  are  older  I  hope  you  will  think 
differently,  but  at  your  age  and  after  what  you  had 
borne  I  don't  see  what  else  you  could  have  done, 
and,  since  you  had  to  do  it,  I'm  glad  you  did  it  so 
well.  But  you  ought  to  have  shaken  hands  with 
him  and  buried  the  hatchet." 

"What  hatchet?" 

Arno  smiled. 

"  I  mean  you  ought  to  have  been  satisfied  with 
the  punishment  you  gave  him.  You  don't  hate 
him  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  Franzl  asserted,  roundly. 

Arno  considered  an  instant. 

"  Franzl,  I  don't  know  that  you  quite  understand 
how  things  were  yesterday.  Of  course  Kurt  was 
in  the  wrong.  I  can't  say  that  too  decidedly.  I 
am  glad  on  several  accounts  that  he  got  for  once 
what  he  deserved.  He  can  make  himself  as  in- 
sufferably disagreeable  as  any  boy  I  ever  saw.  But 
he's  not  a  bad  fellow  at  heart.  He  lost  a  prize 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  101 

yesterday,  and  the  praise,  which  is  sweet  to  him, 
and  a  horse,  which  he  felt  sure  he  would  have  for 
his  own,  and  he  was  rather  well  pounded  and  bat- 
tered, and  aching  in  every  bone,  yet  he  forgave  you 
outright  for  thrashing  him.  That's  like  Kurt. 
He  will  act  like  an  overbearing  insolent  cur  for 
weeks,  then  he  turns  round  and  surprises  you  with 
something  so  uncommonly  sweet-tempered  and 
generous  that  you  can't  help  admiring  him." 

Franzl  was  wholly  unmoved  by  his  praise  of  the 
enemy,  untouched  by  the  faintest  sympathy  for  or 
appreciation  of  Kurt's  conduct;  absorbed  in  his 
own  thoughts  the  boy  stared  unceasingly  at  Arno. 

"  Talk  about  the  ingenuousness  of  childhood  !  " 
he  reflected.  "  Only  children  and  great  diplo- 
mates  know  how  to  be  inscrutable." 

Meanwhile  Franzl  was  making  a  grand  resolve. 
He  had  nearly  determined  to  ask  about  the  words 
that  tormented  him.  Pride,  shyness,  a  stubborn 
savage  reserve  had  always  restrained  him.  He  lit- 
erally did  not  know  how  to  express  the  confused 
thoughts  and  feelings  which  gave  him  no  rest.  It 
was  not  simply  asking  the  meaning  of  one  word  or 
many  words.  It  was  all  his  thinking,  coming  and 
going  on  the*  road.  It  was  all  that  he  did  not 
understand  in  the  lives  of  people  about  him,  new 


102  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

things  belonging  to  his  new  surroundings,  and  of 
which  he  had  never  thought  in  Heilig  Kreuz.  It 
was  the  differences — the  work — why  people  didn't 
talk  alike,  and  think  alike ;  the  whole  world  was 
one  great  Why  ?  to  him,  and  he  longed  to  launch 
it  all  on  Arno.  But  he  did  not  know  how  to  be- 
gin. There  were  the  words — and  Kurt — Kurt  most 
of  all  since  yesterday,  when  he  had  looked  up  with 
his  face  awry  and  dirty  and  bleeding,  and  said  so 
resolutely :  "  And  I  do  care  about '  blesbleege '  " 

Why  did  he  care  so  much  about  a  "  blesbleege?  " 
What  was  a  "  blesbleege  "  anyhow  ? 

Franzl  had  never  before  felt  so  strong  an  impulse 
to  confide  in  Arno.  The  child  of  late,  after  listen- 
ing suspiciously  to  the  young  man,  hurried  away  as 
fast  as  possible,  fearing  that  he  might  at  any  mo- 
ment let  fall  one  of  those  maddening  words.  To- 
day, indeed,  he  used  language  which  Franzl  did 
not  comprehend  in  detail,  and  long  "  grown-up  " 
phrases,  but  the  drift  of  the  talk  the  boy  followed 
without  difficulty,  and  there  was  nothing  offen- 
sively personal  in  it — no  calling  names.  His  self- 
esteem  was  therefore  not  wounded,  and  Arno's 
manner  was  most  kind  and  reassuring. 

He  concluded  his  little  guest  was  still  nursing 
wrath  against  Kurt.  What  but  resentment  could 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  103 

such  persistent  silence  mean?  Children  were 
rarely  fiery  and  sullen  too.  After  all,  what  could 
one  expect  of  the  poor  little  soul  ?  What  chance 
had  he  ever  had  ? 

Franzl  was  looking  earnestly  at  an  open  book 
near  him.  It  had  queer,  curly  letters  like  Kurt's 
book  yesterday.  "Greek,"  Herr  Arno  had  said. 
It  flashed  upon  him  those  strange  words  might 
belong  to  such  letters.  Perhaps  it  was  all  Greek. 
That  didn't  sound  very  bad.  Something  bright 
and  hopeful  rose  in  his  heart.  Why  couldn't  he 
learn  the  letters.  Then  he  would  know  the  words 
like  Herr  Arno  and  Kurt — "  blesbleege  "  and  all 
of  them.  He  could  thrash  Kurt.  Then  he  could 
do  anything  Kurt  could,  and  beat  him  too.  He 
smiled,  caught  his  breath  in  his  excitement  and 
opened  his  lips  to  speak  at  last. 

But  Arno,  feeling  that  he  had  waited  long 
enough  for  the  boy's  stubborn  mood  to  yield, 
turned  away. 

"  You  think  it  over,  little  man,"  he  said,  kindly, 
going  to  his  bookshelves.  "Perhaps  you'll  feel 
different.  A  fight  one  can't  always  avoid,  but 
no  one  need  be  revengeful.  That's  no  good. 
After  you  have  cooled  down  we'll  discuss  the 
ethics  of  it  again." 


104  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Twenty  !  "  Franzl  muttered  mechanically,  the 
old,  discouraged,  heavy  feeling  settling  down  upon 
his  new  hopes.  Turning  on  his  heel,  he  was  gone 
before  Arno  could  speak. 

"  What  an  odd  little  fellow  !  "  he  thought.  "  Evi- 
dently his  High-Mightiness  Kurt  will  have  to 
look  out  for  himself." 

"  Ethics,  ethics — oh,  dear — oh  dear  me — ethics, 
twenty — twenty,  ethics ! "  and  off  went  poor  Franzl, 
pursued  by  words  as  by  furies. 

It  happened  that  he  had  an  errand  to  do  for  Leni 
that  day  after  he  had  made  his  rounds.  The  streets 
did  not  attract  him  as  usual.  His  free  and  sunny 
spirit  had  abandoned  him.  Returning  with  his 
empty  basket,  he  turned  down  a  street  which  was 
new  to  him,  and  saw  many  finely  dressed  people 
entering  the  wide  portals  of  a  building  that  had 
no  windows  except  in  the  roof.  In  spite  of  his 
moroseness  this  roused  his  curiosity.  How  did 
they  climb  up  to  look  out  the  windows  he  won- 
dered. It  was  silly  to  put  them  up  there.  The 
windows  in  his  house  should  be  where  they  be- 


The  little  boy  with  his  basket  hung  about  the 
entrance  and  saw  the  people  come  and  go.  Car- 
riages with  beautiful  horses  and  coachmen  in 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  105 

livery  were  waiting.  A  lady  with  a  bright  red 
gown  passed  in.  Presently  he  saw  the  red  gown 
walk  out.  Then  they  must  go  in  to  see  some- 
thing. How  he  wished  he  knew  what.  How  he 
wished  he  could  see  it.  Once  he  saw  a  fat  woman 
and  a  two-headed  calf  in  a  tent. 

He  drew  nearer  and  peered  in.  There  was  a 
round  room,  three  little  marble  steps,  a  fountain 
with  large-leaved  plants,  and  in  the  middle  a  little 
naked  gold  boy  with  wings  and  a  bow  and  arrow. 
There  were  doors  hung  with  red  curtains.  The 
people  went  through  the  door  at  the  right  under 
the  looped-up  red  curtain.  What  if  he  should  go 
in  too  ?  Nobody  at  the  moment  was  near.  He 
stepped  cautiously  within  the  marble  room.  Only 
the  little  gold  boy  was  there.  There  was  a  window 
like  the  ticket-office  at  the  railway  station,  but  no 
face  behind  it  and  no  voice  to  tell  rough  boys  with 
baskets  to  be  off.  Slowly,  timidly,  walking  very 
softly,  he  approached  the  curtain,  beyond  which  he 
heard  the  hum  of  many  voices.  He  did  not  need 
to  go  far.  From  the  threshold  he  saw. 

A  great  procession  was  bearing  down  upon  him. 
Far,  far  back,  as  far  as  he  could  see,  they  were 
coming  on  through  the  narrow  streets,  hundreds  of 
them,  and  straight  toward  him.  They  had  white, 


106  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

strange  faces,  and  wild  eyes,  and  all  of  them  were 
stripped  to  the  waist,  and  their  backs  were  bleed- 
ing, and  they  had  little  whips  with  many  lashes  in 
their  hands,  and  they  were  lashing  their  bare  white 
backs  until  they  bled.  They  were  thin  and  hungry 
men  and  boys.  They  earned  banners  and  an  out- 
stretched child,  all  skin  and  bone.  A  market-girl, 
with  a  cart  like  his,  was  trying  to  get  out  of  the 
way.  There  was  a  great  church  and  priests  every- 
where, priests  in  the  very  front,  and  an  awful  one 
the  first  of  all,  marching  on  with  his  arm  pointing 
at  Franzl,  calling  to  him  fiercely,  wanting  some- 
thing of  him,  with  fierce  eyes  fixed  on  his. 

Franzl  was  never  so  frightened  in  his  life.  He 
shrank  behind  the  curtain  trying  to  hide  from  the 
awful  priest  in  front  who  wanted  him.  After  a 
moment  he  ventured  out  again,  and  this  time  saw 
a  broad  gold  picture-frame  and  groups  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  smiling  and  talking  together. 

He  was  ashamed  that  he  had  thought  it  real.  Yet 
it  frightened  him  still,  and  the  free  figures  in  front 
stood  out  as  if  he  could  run  behind  them.  What 
did  that  dark  awful  man  want  ?  What  did  it  all 
mean  ?  Why  did  they  whip  their  own  backs  until 
they  bled?  Why  did  they  march  down  straight 
upon  everybody  and  have  strange,  wild  eyes  ? 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  107 

Gradually  his  glance  fell  upon  the  men  and 
women  outside  the  picture  frame.  What  were 
they  saying  about  it  ?  Why  did  they  laugh  and 
turn  away?  What  was  there  to  laugh  at?  He 
hugged  his  basket  tighter  under  his  arm  and  shrank 
against  the  wall  as  some  people  passed  out,  glanc- 
ing at  him  with  a  smile  which  he  did  not  like. 

He  looked  again.  Groups  had  dispersed  and 
formed  anew.  There  was  more  room  in  front  of 
the  picture.  Two  ladies  stood  there  with  a  boy. 
He  wore  yellow  kid  gloves  and  a  sky-blue  silk 
handkerchief  over  his  left  eye.  It  was  Kurt.  He 
smiled  quite  unconcerned,  as  if  the  backs  were  not 
bleeding,  the  faces  white  and  strange,  the  priest 
with  the  outstretched  arm  terrible.  Kurt  pointed 
at  something  with  a  wise  air,  as  if  he  knew  all  about 
it.  His  mother  and  Doris  listened  and  smiled. 
They  moved,  they  were  coming  toward  the  door. 

Franzl  fled  with  hate  in  his  heart. 


vn. 

THE  pale  hungry  men  with  their  strange  eyes 
and  half-naked  bodies  haunted  Franzl  from  that 
day.  He  dreamed  of  them,  he  saw  the  great  white 
procession  bearing  down  upon  him  whenever  he 
closed  his  eyes.  That  foremost  priest  beckoned 
with  imperious  gesture  from  any  dusky  corner  of 
the  barn,  advanced  from  dim  woods  in  the  twilight, 
stood  out  commandingly  on  the  rolling  heath,  and 
faded  in  purple  mists  over  the  distant  hills.  But 
the  child  did  not  ask  Leni  what  the  picture  meant. 
He  often  looked  at  her  wistfully  and  was  silent. 
For  he  had  learned  that  her  world  was  not  the 
world  of  the  others — of  Arno  and  Doris  and  Kurt. 
They  cared  for  things  which  did  not  exist  for  Leni. 
Their  language  had  for  her  no  meaning  and  no 
worth.  His  new  thoughts  made  him  less  sunny 
and  gave  him  no  peace ;  but  neither  they  nor  the 
words  and  the  procession  would  let  him  go.  Leni 
thought  he  was  growing  old  fast,  and  feeling  his 
long  questioning  gaze  fixed  upon  her,  asked  him 
one  day  if  he  was  not  well. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  109 

She  herself  began  to  look  pale  and  ill.  Some- 
times in  the  morning  her  eyes  were  red.  Her 
grave,  firm  face  lost  its  repose,  grew  anxious  and 
nervous.  There  were  market  days  when  she  did 
not  go  to  the  city.  Franzl  heard  the  women  say 
Lutz  was  making  things  hot  for  her.  Often  the 
father  and  daughter  talked  together  after  the  day's 
work  was  done,  which  was  something  quite  new, 
and  nothing  made  Leni  seem  so  tired  as  a  talk 
with  her  father. 

Franzl  was  strongly  attached  to  her.  Next  to  his 
little  bundle  of  family  at  home,  he  loved  her  better 
than  anyone  on  earth,  tramped  contentedly  by  her 
side  going  to  market,  missed  her  when  long  away, 
and  was  glad  to  come  back  to  her  quiet  familiar 
face.  He  did  not  like  to  see  her  look  so  hollow- 
eyed.  His  mother  had  looked  so,  too.  Some- 
times he  did  not  know  whom  he  hated  worse,  Kurt 
von  Normann  or  Christian  Lutz. 

When  he  first  came  to  Waldheim  he  liked  the 
city  better.  Wynburg  was  full  of  excitement  and 
fascination.  He  approached  every  house  on  his 
rounds  with  interest  and  curiosity,  and  something 
pleasant  almost  always  happened.  The  noise  and 
sights  of  the  streets  were  wonderful,  he  had  much 
to  learn,  was  zealous  and  ambitious.  But  now  that 


110  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

he  had  mastered  his  duties,  thanks  to  Leni's  good 
training  ;  now  that  he  had  grown  accustomed  to  the 
city,  and  the  customers  were  used  to  his  bright 
eager  face,  and  the  newness  of  all  things  had  worn 
off;  and  most  especially  since  he  had  become  con- 
scious and  uneasy  on  account  of  his  ignorance — 
sensitive,  resentful,  yet  helpless — his  instinct  was 
to  stay  in  his  own  world,  where  he  understood 
what  was  going  on,  where  people,  even  old  people 
like  Lutz  and  Klumpp  talked  more  or  less  as  he 
did;  where  young  men  did  not,  in  the  kindest 
fashion,  make  him  miserable  with  words  beyond 
his  ken  ;  and  where  no  dandy-boys  whom  he  could 
thrash  stood,  waving  yellow  kid  gloves,  before  a 
wonderful  picture  as  full  of  moving  men  as  the 
crowded  market,  and  grinned  and  looked  the  other 
way,  and  talked  carelessly  as  if  it  was  not  alive 
and  terrible. 

So  Franzl  had  his  peculiar  reasons  for  liking 
Waldheim  and  the  farm  better  than  Wynburg. 
He  drew  more  within  his  shell  each  day ;  grew 
business-like  and  taciturn  on  his  rounds,  even 
with  kind  Nanni.  Arno  was  out  of  town  for  a  few 
weeks.  His  absence  gave  Franzl  incredible  relief, 
although  he  missed  him  too.  If  the  young  man 
unwittingly  tortured  the  child,  Franzl  liked  him 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  Ill 

nevertheless,  and  admired  him  vastly.  The  boy's 
warmly  affectionate  heart  clung  more  than  he 
knew  to  the  people  who  were  good  to  him,  and 
who  were  unconsciously  shaping  his  life  ;  Fraulein 
Doris,  who  spoke  so  sweetly ;  little  Fraulein  Hilde- 
gard,  who  was  so  kind,  and  so  very  astonishing 
with  all  her  whims  and  capers.  Nearly  every 
morning  he  would  secretly  slip  a  little  bunch  of 
wild  flowers  for  her  behind  a  milk-pan  or  pitcher, 
to  be  discovered  by  Nanni  after  he  was  gone.  As 
he  was  always  troubled  or  irritated  when  the 
slightest  notice  was  taken  of  it,  Nanni  learned  to 
look  the  other  way  when  he  hid  it,  and  not  to 
thank  him.  He  liked  them  all.  He  thought 
much  of  them  all.  But  he  knew  now  that  they 
were  "different,"  and  therefore  he  would  rather 
work  all  day  as  hard  as  he  could  on  the  farm  than 
come  down  to  the  city  among  them,  their  queer 
words  and  gentle  ways.  They  only  gave  him 
more  thoughts,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  al- 
ready had  more  than  he  could  carry.  It  was  bet- 
ter in  the  fields  with  the  men ;  it  was  best  with  Leni. 
One  Sunday  evening  Lutz  had  gone  to  the  vil- 
lage inn  to  smoke  his  pipe  and  drink  his  beer  with 
Andreas  Klumpp  and  the  worthies  who  congre- 
gated in  those  murky  precincts.  Leni  and  Franzl 


112  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

sat  at  the  door  of  the  isolated  farm-house  which 
stood  far  back  from  the  main-road.  It  was  a  still 
warm  August  night.  Over  the  fields  floated  now 
and  then  echoes  of  laughter  and  song,  voices  of 
men  and  girls  returning  noisily  from  their  rollick- 
ing Sunday  outing  in  some  neighboring  village — 
approaching,  passing  on,  leaving  everything  quiet 
as  before.  All  was  silent  near  the  two  except  for 
the  deep  comfortable  breathing  of  the  great  yellow 
Leonberger  asleep  at  FranzTs  feet.  The  young 
girl  in  the  doorway,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her 
chin  in  her  hands,  stared  unseeing,  into  the  deep- 
ening shadows  under  the  linden-tree.  Franzl  was 
wondering  how  long  Herr  Arno  and  the  Normanns 
and  many  other  customers  would  be  away.  Half 
of  his  houses  were  closed,  and  the  market  was  so 
dull  that  he  was  scarcely  needed  down  there. 
Where  did  the  people  go?  Why  did  they  go 
away  from  their  beautiful  big  houses  ?  When  he 
had  one  all  his  own  he  was  going  to  stay  in  it. 
Fraulein  Hildegard  said  they  went  every  summer 
to  the  sea  and  played  on  the  hard  sand  beach,  and 
she  couldn't  swim,  but  Kurt  could.  Franzl  wished 
he  knew  how  it  looked  up  there,  but  he  could  swim 
without  any  sea,  and  better  than  Kurt  von  Nor- 
mann.  If  he  could  get  Kurt  in  the  water,  first 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  113 

he'd  duck  his  head  and  then  he'd  show  him  some 
tricks.  He  hadn't  had  a  swim  since  last  summer, 
and  he  loved  it  so !  He  was  the  only  fellow  in 
Heilig-Kreuz  that  could  swim.  There  wasn't 
much  chance  up  there.  But  he  was  glad  his  fa- 
ther was  a  swimmer  and  made  him  learn.  Here 
there  was  chance  enough.  Perhaps  Leni  would 
let  him  go  to  the  river  some  day,  only  it  was  so  far, 
and  there  was  always  so  much  to  do.  He  got  up 
from  the  bench  against  the  house,  stretched  him- 
self and  yawned  audibly. 

"  I  think  I'U  go  to  bed,  Leni,  I'm  sleepy.  We've 
got  to  do  the  third  field  to-morrow,"  he  said,  with 
his  important  and  responsible  air. 

"  Would  you  mind  staying  up  a  little  later  to- 
night, Franzl  ?  "  she  returned,  after  some  moments, 
and  timidly,  not  in  her  ordinary  manner. 

He  was  a  little  surprised,  for  she  usually  was 
careful  to  send  him  off  early ;  in  fact  earlier  than 
he  wished  to  go,  but  he  answered  promptly : 

"  Why,  no.  You  see  a  fellow  only  goes  to  bed 
because  he  doesn't  know  anything  else  to  do.  I 
don't  think  much  of  bed  anyhow." 

He  reseated  himself  with  a  swagger,  and  pres- 
ently, as  Leni  said  nothing,  he  employed  himself 
in  stifling  a  series  of  deep-rooted  yawns. 


114  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Suddenly  the  big  watch-dog  rose  and  stood  alert 
and  on  duty  listening,  his  nose  pointed  toward  the 
orchards. 

"  It  is  nothing,  Wolf."    Franzl  told  him. 

"Keep  stiU,  little  boy,  I  know  better,"  Wolf 
responded  in  his  own  fashion. 

Leni  put  her  hand  on  the  dog's  head,  murmuring : 

"  It  is  a  friend.     Wolf  won't  bark." 

"  Do  you  hear  anything,  Leni  ?  " 

"  Not  yet.  He's  too  far ;  but — come  Franzl, 
come  with  me.  Lie  down,  Wolf.  Take  care  of  the 
house.  No,  you  can't  come.  You  stay  here.  You 
know  who  it  is." 

Wolf  stretched  his  muzzle  along  her  arm  and 
reluctantly  consented  to  remain. 

"  It's  all  very  undignified,"  he  protested ;  "  but 
pray  do  as  you  like." 

Franzl,  wondering,  followed  Leni  past  the  loom- 
ing black  barns  and  into  the  dark  orchard.  The 
girl  went  swiftly  and  noiselessly  on  the  turf,  until 
they  were  at  some  distance  from  the  house. 

"  There,  wait  here,"  she  said.  "  I'll  go  on  a 
little.  I  won't  be  long." 

"  Are  you  going  to  meet  Karl  ?  "  the  boy  asked 
calmly.  "  Georg  and  Eosine  used  to  meet  in  the 
dark." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A   EOT.  115 

"  Never  mind  them.  Be  good,  Franzl.  If  you 
hear  any  noise  from  the  house,  sing  or  whistle." 

"  Shall  I  whistle  or  shall  I  sing  ?  " 

"  Either.     Both." 

" Shall  I  sing  'The  High  Aim  '  or  '  The  Tyro- 
lean and  His  Child?'" 

But  Leni  was  gone.  Franzl  crept  under  an 
apple-tree,  where  it  was  soft,  still,  and  dark,  and 
there  was  a  mound  for  a  pillow.  He  concluded 
to  get  some  of  his  thinking  done  while  waiting  for 
Leni.  Years  after,  this  summer  night  was  vivid  in 
his  remembrance,  and  he  saw  Leni's  pale,  pained 
face  stealing  off  like  a  shade  among  the  black  trees, 
and  life  and  his  own  heart  taught  him  what  it  all 
meant.  But  now  he  reached  up  and  filled  his 
pockets  with  green,  stony  balls — frustrating  nat- 
ure's beneficent  intention  to  transform  them  into 
dark  red  apples  by  October  —  and  diligently 
gnawed  them,  stretched  flat  on  his  back.  Fond 
as  he  was  of  Leni,  her  griefs  and  her  romance 
troubled  him  &t  the  moment  no  more  than  if  he 
had  been  a  heartless  young  cannibal. 

He  wondered  idly  what  had  happened  to  Pauli, 
and  did  not  believe  Pauli  could  pull  the  milk-cart 
better  than  he,  even  if  Pauli  was  bigger.  He 
closed  his  eyes  and  saw  the  crowd  at  the  child- 


116  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

market,  and  all  the  boys  and  girls  crying :  "  Buy 
me  ! "  grew  tall  and  changed  into  the  white,  fierce 
men  in  the  picture  and  this  was  the  last  he  knew 
until  he  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Franzl,  Franzl,  all  Waldheim  might  come  to 
find  me  and  you  wouldn't  hear  !  "  Leni  was  saying 
in  his  drowsy  ears.  "  Get  up,  Franzl !  "  shaking 
him.  "  Wolf  is  cleverer  than  you.  He's  awake  in 
an  instant." 

"  I  am  perfectly  awake,"  he  declared,  offended. 
"  I  was  only  getting  some  thinking  done,  and  then 
I  forgot  a  little." 

She  had  spoken  brightly  and  kindly.  She 
laughed  at  his  explanation,  took  his  hand  and 
hurried  on  till  the  sleepy  child  was  nearly  breath- 


"  How  queer  you  are,  Leni ! " 

"Am  I  ?    I'm  a  little  happier.     That  is  all" 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  go  so  fast  that  I 
stub  all  my  toes.  Can  you  see  in  the  dark  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to-night.  Don't  be  cross.  I  know  you 
are  tired  and  sleepy.  We'll  soon  be  at  home. 
Then  if  it  weren't  too  late  I'd  tell  you  some- 
thing, even  if  you  are  only  a  little  boy." 

"I  am  strong  and  large  for  my  age,"  he  re- 
minded her. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  117 

"  I  know  you  are,  and  sensible." 

Mollified,  he  went  on  cheerfully. 

When  they  reached  the  house,  Wolf  came  for- 
ward a  few  slow  steps  to  meet  them,  satisfied  him- 
self that  they  had  returned  intact  from  their  fool- 
ish expedition,  and  stretching  himself,  like  a  great 
yellow  lion,  at  Franzl's  feet,  contentedly  resumed 
his  slumbers. 

"We  have  been  good  friends,  you  and  I,  from 
the  first  day,  haven't  we,  Franzl?"  she  began, 
hesitating  slightly. 

"  Why,  yes,  Leni ;  of  course." 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  " 

"  Not  now.     Not  a  bit,"  he  returned,  brightly. 

"  Because  it  is  quiet  to-night.  Perhaps  I  could 
tell  you  things.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  my  mouth 
was  sealed.  Then  I  have  no  one  to  speak  to.  If 
my  mother  had  lived,  it  would  be  different." 

"  Oh,  do  grown  people  want  their  mothers  too  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  more  than  little  boys  do." 

Franzl  had  never  thought  of  that. 

"  I  never  wanted  her  more  than  now,"  Leni  went 
on,  simply.  "  It  is  hard  to  hold  out  three  years 
against  your  own  father.  I  don't  like  cheating 
ways,  Franzl.  I  haven't  seen  Karl  to  speak  with 
him  since  the  first  day  you  went  with  the  milk. 


118  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

I  have  had  to  tell  him  something.  Father  is  like 
iron.  He's  at  me  all  the  time  now.  First  he  said 
November.  When  I  told  him  I'd  run  away  first, 
I'd  never  marry  Andreas  Klumpp,  he  said  he'd 
give  me  till  February,  and  if  I'm  not  ready  and 
willing  then,  he'll  turn  me  out  of  doors.  Father's 
orderly.  He  has  to  do  everything  by  the  quarters 
— whether  it's  rents  or  cows  or  sheep,  or  marrying 
me." 

"  I  wouldn't  marry  old  Andreas  Klumpp  either." 

"  It  is  the  farm,  Franzl,  and  I  don't  want  mead- 
ows or  orchards  or  barns  or  cattle.  I'd  rather  have 
the  smallest  house,  the  smallest  room  with  Karl." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  should  say  so,"  Franzl  assented, 
cheerily.  "  I  should  too.  He's  young  and  pleas- 
ant looking  and  hasn't  got  the  palsy.  And  then 
he'd  be  your  family,  wouldn't  he  ?  " 

"Yes;  that  is  what  we  want,"  the  girl  said, 
softly.  "  We've  wanted  it  years." 

"He'd  be  a  great  deal  better  kind  of  family, 
than — than  anybody  round  here,"  Franzl  remarked, 
somewhat  diplomatically. 

"  Karl  has  always  been  my  family.  He  came  to 
work  here  like  you,  when  he  was  no  bigger  than 
you,  and  I  was  a  little  thing." 

"Did  he  sell  himself?" 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  119 

"  No  ;  lie  was  the  child  of  people  in  Waldheim. 
They  died,  and  father  took  him  to  work  for  his 
board." 

"  Did  he  get  fifty  marks  ?  " 

"  Not  at  first.  He  was  always  good  to  me.  He 
was  here  when  my  mother  died.  She  loved  him 
like  a  son.  Father  never  had  such  a  worker. 
There's  nothing  Karl  can't  do.  Father  can  find  no 
fault  with  him  except  he's  poor.  But  haven't  we 
enough  ?  And  Karl  so  kind,  and  so  industrious ! 
It  was  three  years  ago  father  found  out  that  we 
liked  each  other.  He  was  terribly  angry  and  sent 
Karl  off  that  very  night,  and  forbade  me  to  speak 
to  him.  But  I  did  not  promise  I'd  not  speak  to 
him.  It's  all  too  old  for  you,  Franzl." 

"  But  I  understand  very  well.  There's  nothing 
at  all  hard  to  understand  about  liking  and  not  lik- 
ing. I  could  tell  you  some  things  that  are  hard  ! " 

"  I've  been  useful  to  father.  I  was  a  young  girl 
when  mother  died.  People  thought  he'd  have  to 
have  some  woman  here  to  look  after  things.  But 
I  did  everything  just  as  mother  used.  He  didn't 
seem  to  miss  her,  the  work  went  so  well.  And 
ever  since  Karl  had  to  go  and  I  know  how  hard 
father  felt  toward  me,  I  worked  still  better,  trying 
to  please  him.  It  was  about  a  year  ago  he  made 


120  A  BATTLE  AND  A  DOT. 

up  his  mind  I  should  marry  Andreas  Klumpp,  and 
I've  worked  as  I  never  worked  before.  In  the 
house,  at  the  market,  with  the  accounts,  with  the 
milk— and  I've  looked  after  everything,  the  cattle, 
the  market-garden,  the  men  on  the  farm.  Wher- 
ever a  sharp  eye,  a  willing  hand,  and  quick  feet 
could  help,  they  have  helped  my  father,  and  he  has 
profited  by  them,  and  he  knows  it.  The  women 
may  say  I  am  proud  and  cold  and  stiff,  but  they 
can't  say  I  don't  work.  Nobody  can." 

"No  they  can't,  Leni.  You  work  like  six." 
"  Well,  Franzl,  it  doesn't  do  any  good — and  I'm 
tired — not  of  work,  but  of  the  fight  between  father 
and  me.  Whether  we  speak  or  not,  the  fight  is  al- 
ways going  on.  No  matter  how  hard  and  long 
work  is,  it  comes  to  an  end  some  time,  and  you  can 
draw  a  deep  breath  and  say :  "  That's  done,  thank 
Heaven."  But  if  it's  inside  of  you,  if  it's  two  peo- 
ple pulling  in  different  directions  under  one  roof, 
and  each  is  tough  as  the  other,  it  is  awful,  it  tires 
you  out  soul  and  body.  If  I  tell  father  Jenny's 
giving  less  milk,  we  look  in  each  other's  eyes  and 
see  Andreas  Klumpp.  If  father  tells  me  to  ask  a 
penny  more  a  pound  for  tomatoes,  neither  of  us 
can  forget  Andreas  Klumpp." 

"  Confound  old  Klumpp !  "  Franzl  muttered. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  121 

"  He's  like  a  black  shadow  over  everything.  And 
lately  it  is  worse,  much  worse.  Father  is  as  hard 
as  a  rock.  He  is  determined  to  force  me  now. 
When  he  was  so  silent  and  I  was  so  silent  month 
after  month,  I  used  to  wish  he  would  speak.  Now 
he  has  begun  to  speak,  I'd  give  my  life  if  he'd  be 
silent  again." 

"It  isn't  at  all  like  a  family,"  Franzl  said, 
thoughtfully. 

"  It's  bad  enough." 

"  And  if  you  had  a  little  room  with  Karl,  you'd 
have  a  warm  fire  and  a  bright  light  and  you'd 
make  pancakes — big  ones  and  a  great  many — 
wouldn't  you  ?  And  he  would  joke  and  laugh  and 
you'd  be  smiling  and  listening  ?  " 

The  boy's  clear  voice  full  of  confidence  and  in- 
terest was  startlingly  loud  in  the  stillness. 

"Hush,  Franzl,  you  sound  like  a  trumpet. 
Don't  shout  that  to  all  "Waldheim.  But  you  may  be 
sure,"  she  continued,  with  a  happy  little  laugh  at 
his  picture,  '''I'd  make  what  Karl  liked,  pancakes 
or  anything  else :  and  if  I  can  almost  manage  a 
whole  farm,  year  after  year,  when  my  heart  is 
heavy,  it's  reasonable  to  believe  that  I  could  make 
one  little  room  cosey  and  bright  if  I  felt  hopeful 
and  glad." 


122  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Then  you  must  have  him,"  Franzl  declared,  in 
a  tone  of  positive  conviction.  "Cheer  up,  Leni. 
I'll  help  you." 

Leni  laughed  again.  Franzl  was  so  absurd,  like 
a  strutting  little  turkey-cock,  sometimes;  but  he 
was  as  good  as  gold,  and  no  child  was  so  sturdy 
and  faithful. 

"  You  do  help  me,"  she  said,  affectionately. 
"You  have  helped  me  from  the  day  you  came. 
You  see  last  year  father  was  at  me  about  Andreas 
Klumpp,  and  in  the  winter  we  were  both  silent  and 
sullen.  One  day  I  remembered  that  he  never  did 
anything  for  me.  It  wasn't  often  I  had  a  wish  ; 
but  if  I  had  one,  it  didn't  move  him  any  more  than 
if  I  was  one  of  the  cows.  It  seemed  to  me  if  he 
would  do  one  single  thing  I  asked,  my  chances 
would  be  better  in  other  ways  ;  but  if  I  never  was 
consulted,  if  I  always  was  ordered  and  driven  like 
the  cattle  and  the  farm-hands,  why  then  he  would 
be  so  used  to  my  dumbness  it  would  be  worse  for 
me  in  the  thing  I  cared  most  for.  So  I  made  up 
my  mind  I  would  try  to  have  a  voice  in  something. 
Just  then  the  Waldheim  women  were  beginning  to 
talk.  They  can't  talk  enough  about  it." 

"  No,  they  can't.     I  hear  them." 

"  I  feel  older  too.     I'd  always  gone  on  doing  my 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  123 

work  and  not  thinking  of  anything  else  except  Karl. 
But  now  I  wanted  to  be  alone  and  to  keep  away 
from  the  women.  I  knew  father  had  the  largest 
farm  except  Klumpp's,  and  was  able  to  hire  all  the 
help  he  needed,  so  I  thought  when  he  was  going 
to  Ravensburg  I'd  ask  him  to  buy  a  boy  for  the 
milk-cart.  I  talked  quiet  and  reasonable.  I  said 
he  was  a  rich  farmer  and  I  his  only  daughter,  and 
I  was  too  old  to  go  with  the  milk.  This  was  how  I 
tried  to  make  him  hear  my  voice,  and  he  did.  He 
said  nothing,  but  he  bought  you.  I  had  a  feeling 
all  the  time  that  you  would  bring  me  good  luck. 
I  felt  kind  to  you  before  you  came.  I  wanted  you. 
I  remembered  how  pleasant  it  used  to  be  when 
mother  was  alive  and  Karl  was  a  little  boy  and 
took  care  of  the  cows.  I  thought  a  great  deal 
about  you." 

"  Was  he  big  and  strong  like  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  he  was.  I  don't  know  that 
anybody  was  ever  so  big  and  strong  as  you  feel, 
Franzl."  After  a  moment  she  went  on :  "  But  now 
it  doesn't  seem^to  have  helped,  though  he  did  what 
I  asked.  And  all  my  good  work  doesn't  help. 
Nothing  touches  him.  Perhaps  he  bought  you  so 
that  somebody  would  understand  the  milk-cart  and 
the  business  after  he'd  married  me  to  Klumpp. 


124  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

Perhaps  he  didn't  really  hear  my  voice.  Perhaps 
he  only  thought  he'd  have  me  train  somebody  to 
fill  my  place.  And  I  have  trained  you  well,  Franzl ; 
I've  done  my  best,  and  you've  done  yours.  He 
knows  it,  though  he  says  nothing.  He  sees  how  I 
try  day  and  night  to  please  him.  But  it's  no  use. 
He's  got  it  into  his  head  his  farm  and  Andreas 
Klumpp's  farm  must  marry." 

"  When  I'm  a  man  and  have  a  beautiful  house 
and  the  other  things  I'm  going  to  have,  I  shall  help 
the  pleasant  young  people  against  the  old  cross 
ones.  I  shall  make  the  rich  old  men  give  some  of 
their  land  to  the  young  who  haven't  any,  and  I 
shall  help  the  ones  who  want  to  be  families." 

"  Ah,  Franzl,  then  you'll  be  very  different  from 
the  rest  of  the  world.  Up  here  in  Waldheim  father 
and  Andreas  Klumpp  are  only  doing  what  the  Nor- 
manns  and  others  are  doing  down  in  Wynburg. 
There's  Fraulein  Doris.  She  likes  Herr  Arno. 
She  has  always  known  him.  He's  given  her  some 
sort  of  lessons  too,  and  been  a  great  deal  in  the 
house.  He  has  no  money  and  no  place  yet.  They 
want  to  marry  her  to  Count  Rosen.  His  land  in 
the  country  is  next  to  the  Nonnanns'  land,  but  it 
is  a  sin  to  marry  acres  together  instead  of  hearts. 
He's  in  Hannover  at  the  officers'  riding-school,  and 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  125 

head  over  heels  in  debt — mean  debts  too.  But 
next  spring  there'll  be  trouble.  She  never  will 
take  him.  Herr  Arno  is  worth  a  dozen  of  him — 
but  there,  if  you  are  poor,  you  haven't  much 
chance !  " 

"  Do  Herr  Arno  and  Fraulein  Doris  want  to  be 
a  family  too  ?  "  Franzl  asked  in  great  astonishment, 
picturing  another  warm  room  and  more  pancakes. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes." 

"  Does  she  know  about  you  and  Karl  ?  Is  that 
why  she  comes  out  and  asks  so  pleasant,  '  How  is 
Leni  to-day  ? ' " 

"Of  course  she  knows.  Nanni  is  a  Waldheim 
woman.  She  has  been  in  the  Normann  family 
twenty  years,  first  as  nurse,  then  as  cook.  She  has 
taken  more  care  of  Fraulein  Doris  than  ever  her 
mother  has.  And  I've  brought  milk  to  the  house 
eight  years.  Of  course  you  see  into  things  in  that 
time.  Besides,  Fraulein  Doris  and  I  are  the  same 
age  to  the  month." 

"  O — h,"  exclaimed   Franzl,    "  you    look    miles 

• 

older  !  You  are  so  dark  and  sober — not  that  you 
don't  look  very  nice,  and  I  like  you  best — but 
Fraulein  Doris  is  all  white  and  soft." 

"  She  has  never  worked,"  Leni  said,  simply  and 
without  bitterness.  "  It  is  work  that  ages  women. 


126  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

I've  often  thought  of  that,  going  to  so  many  houses 
and  seeing  the  inside  of  things.  With  us  you  can't 
sometimes  tell  whether  a  woman  is  twenty-five  or 
forty.  But  look  at  Frau  von  Normann — she  might 
be  twenty-five." 

"Well,  I  don't  know — if  she  didn't  purse  up 
her  lips,"  Franzl  remarked,  critically. 

"But  you  see,  Franzl,  even  pretty  Fraulein 
Doris  is  wishing  for  something  she  can't  get.  Ev- 
erybody is." 

"  I'm  not." 

"  O  Franzl,  the  big  house." 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  going  to  have  it.  There's  a  great 
difference  between  wishing  for  what  you  can  get 
and  for  what  you  can't." 

He  did  not  understand  why  she  laughed  as  she 
replied  : 

"Wish  away,  Franzl.  Wish  hard  and  work 
hard.  You  have  heard  a  deal  of  grown-up  talk 
to-night. " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  call  this  very  old." 

"  It  won't  hurt  you,  since  there's  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of.  I  haven't  been  meeting  Karl  behind 
father's  back " 

"  Like  Georg  and  Eosine,"  Franzl  said,  gravely. 

"  Or  sending  him  letters  on  the  sly — 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  127 

"  Like  Max  and  Luise." 
"  If  I  met  Karl  to-night,  it  was  right." 
CCQP  course.  He  is  your  real  family." 
"  I  had  to  see  him  once  more,  face  to  face.  I 
had  to  tell  him  I  had  given  up  trying  to  soften 
father,  and  that  he  says  I'm  to  marry  Klumpp 
next  February,  or  be  turned  out  of  the  house.  I 
have  told  Karl  he  must  have  some  sort  of  home 
ready  for  me  by  that  time.  He  must  get  a  place 
somewhere,  a  gardener's  place  I'd  like  best,  but  I 
don't  much  care.  He's  only  working  in  his  cous- 
in's vineyard  now.  He  knows  the  farm,  every 
inch  of  it.  I  always  thought  when  father  should 
see  how  in  earnest  I  was,  he  would  take  Karl  back. 
He's  never  had  a  head-man  like  Karl.  But  I've 
given  up.  I  have  no  more  hope.  If  father  turns 
me  adrift  I  shall  have  to  go.  It's  hard  on  an 
honest  girl  to  have  to  disobey  her  father.  But 
Karl  and  I  belong  together.  It  would  be  a  sin  for 
me  to  marry  Andreas  Klumpp.  I'll  stay  at  home 
and  not  marry  anybody,  or  I'll  marry  Karl.  That's 
the  long  and  short  of  it.  Sometimes  I  think  if 
father  wasn't  so  very  religious  he  might  not  be  so 
hard.  He's  so  looked  up  to  in  the  church,  and  so 
particular  about  everything,  he  thinks  he's  always 
sure  to  be  right.  He  thinks  he's  right  now,  and 


128  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

I'm  wrong,  and  he's  prayed  a  great  deal  about  it. 
That's  why  I'm  tired  and  discouraged." 

"It's  a  pity  I'm  not  grown  up  yet,"  Franzl 
broke  out,  impetuously.  "  I'd  like  to  send  them 
all  spinning  —Andreas  Klumpp  and  Count  Rosen, 
and  Kurt  von  Normann  after  them  !  " 

"  You'd  be  a  terrible  fellow,  Franzl !  Now  I 
have  told  you  how  bad  it  has  been,  and  how  I 
wanted  you  to  come  and  bring  me  good  luck. 
That  was  only  a  notion,  I  suppose,  but  we've  been 
good  friends,  Franzl,  from  the  first  day,  and  if 
I've  had  any  pleasure  since  you  came,  it  has  been 
through  you,  and  that's  the  truth." 

She  stood  silent  and  thoughtful  for  some  minutes, 
her  hand  resting  affectionately  on  his  shoulder. 

"  It's  late,  very  late,  Franzl,"  she  said,  at  length. 
"  Go  to  bed  now." 

A  curious  medley  ran  through  his  mind.  It  was 
strange  business  that  all  these  grown  people 
shouldn't  do  what  they  wanted.  The  differences 
then  were  only  in  the  words  and  the  picture.  In 
the  very  inside  of  them,  Herr  Arno  and  Fraulein 
Doris  were  wishing  and  wishing,  quite  like  Karl 
and  Leni. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  only  hurry  and  be  a  man  !  "  he 
exclaimed,  vehemently.  "  You'd  see,  Leni !  " 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  129 

"  I  see  that  you  have  a  good  heart.  Good- 
night, Franzl." 

She  had  seemed  prodigiously  wise  to  the  child 
during  all  this  strange  talk  in  the  dark.  She  had 
spoken  of  things  beyond  his  experience.  Perhaps 
she  did  know  after  all.  With  an  eager  impulse  he 
said: 

"  Leni,  what  is  a  blesbleege  ?  " 

"  Where  did  you  see  one  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  it.  The  Normanns  talked  about 
it." 

"  Perhaps  it's  a  French  vegetable,"  suggested 
the  girl,  carelessly.  "  Nanni  says  they  call  fried 
potatoes  pommesf rites.  Couldn't  it  be  something 
of  that  kind  ?  " 

Franzl  was  motionless  for  some  moments. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said,  kindly  and  brightly;  "I 
don't  suppose  it  is  much  of  anything.  And  you 
cheer  up,  Leni.  You  shall  have  Karl.  There's  no 
mistake  about  that.  Good-night,"  and  he  tramped 
off  to  his  hay-bed. 


"vm. 

NEAR  Wynburg  was  a  beautiful  river  which 
seemed  to  have  been  created  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  distracting  and  tempting  boys,  and  making 
them  unmindful  of  their  duty.  Neither  wide  nor 
deep,  it  flowed  past  pretty  suburban  towns  and 
villages,  whose  cool,  green,  shady  gardens  ran 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  over  which  large  trees 
extended  rich  drooping  branches.  The  river  was 
a  veritable  river,  possessed  of  traditional  and  his- 
toric importance,  but  at  this  point  in  its  career  it 
acted  strangely  like  an  overgrown  brook,  eddying 
and  prancing  in  a  juvenile  manner  round  a  couple 
of  islands,  improvising  a  few  cascades,  dashing 
boisterously  over  some  rocks,  and  tossing  its  mane 
beneath  three  bridges — a  heavy,  broad  structure, 
solid  as  the  highway ;  an  airy  suspension  railway 
bridge;  and  a  narrow  arched  one  for  foot-passen- 
gers only,  and  resting  lightly  on  an  island  before 
spanning  the  other  flood. 

Leaning  on    the  railing  of  the  small  arched 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  131 

bridge,  one  sunny  September  morning,  stood  a 
dirty  little  boy  with  a  basket  of  new  potatoes 
which  Leni  had  told  him  to  take  to  a  certain  house 
far  beyond  the  river.  She  had  also  said  he  was  to 
be  as  prompt  as  possible,  for  business  was  lively 
at  the  market  and  she  needed  him  every  moment. 
Franzl  thought  a  fellow  ought  to  have  more  than 
two  eyes  to  see  everything  that  was  going  on  that 
morning.  Watching  the  two  shores  and  the  isl- 
ands and  the  bridges  kept  him  very  busy.  It  was 
like  three  rings  at  a  circus.  There  was  a  glitter- 
ing troop  of  cavalry  winding  along  one  side  of  the 
river,  a  tramway-terminus  with  much  backing  and 
geeing  of  heavy  horses  on  the  other,  besides  a 
hurdy-gurdy  with  a  monkey ;  the  whole  world  and 
his  wife  were  passing  over  the  big  bridge,  a  drove 
of  cattle  was  approaching  it;  a  train  steamed 
slowly  across  the  suspension  bridge ;  on  the  nearer 
island  flags  were  flying,  a  merry-go-round  revolved 
indefatigably,  and  gay  tents  peeped  from  the 
foliage,  while  three  swimming-schools,  whose  dis- 
creet if  rough  board  walls  screened  the  boy- 
bathers,  let  delighted  whoops  and  yells  ascend  to 
Franzl's  ears.  Directly  near  him,  on  the  steep 
green  bank,  a  flock  of  sheep,  alarmed  by  the  shriek 
of  the  locomotive,  had  lost  their  leader  and  their 


132  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

silly  heads,  and  were  plunging  distractedly  toward 
the  water,  instead  of  filing  respectably  along  the 
path  that  led  to  Franzl's  bridge.  An  angry  man 
and  a  giggling  boy  sought  to  collect  the  scattered 
animals,  whose  panic  and  consistent  foolishness 
made  so  delectable  a  sight  it  would  have  glued  the 
very  elect  to  the  spot.  A  gale  of  laughter  over- 
came Franzl.  He  put  down  his  basket,  held  his 
sides,  and  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

If  things  had  not  been  so  attractive  to  his  curi- 
ous, alert  young  spirit,  if  the  sun  had  not  sparkled 
so  on  the  water,  if  everybody  had  not  seemed  to  be 
enjoying  himself,  if  there  had  not  been  a  merry-go- 
round  grinding  out  the  "  Beggar  Student "  waltz 
in  the  most  discordant  yet  imperatively  inviting 
manner — while  the  river  was  the  best  merry-go- 
round  of  all — if  he  had  not  heard  those  boys 
splashing  and  shrieking  behind  those  tantalizing 
boards,  if — if — Mr.  William  Shakespeare  says 
there's  "  much  virtue  in  an  if  " — if,  in  short,  Franzl 
had  been  a  good  little  boy  of  a  sober  and  plodding 
temperament,  with  ears  and  eyes  wisely  but  not  too 
well  open,  or  if  he  had  been  a  certain  kind  of  child 
of  stoic,  Sunday-school-book  mould,  who  would 
have  felt,  but  with  heroic  virtue  resisted,  these 
allurements,  certain  events  which  followed  might 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  133 

have  been  altogether  different — in  fact,  might  have 
proved  far  less  comfortable  and  happy  for  all  con- 
cerned. 

The  horsemen  passed,  the  train  went  out  of 
sight,  the  sheep  recovered  their  proper  state  of 
docile  irresponsibility,  and  Franzl  reluctantly  took 
up  his  basket  and  trudged  on.  His  cheeks  were 
glowing  hot.  He  had  baked  so  long  in  the  sun- 
shine, it  seemed  to  him  he  was  never  so  warm  in 
his  life.  When  he  looked  at  all  that  water,  he  felt 
that  no  boy  on  earth  had  ever  been  so  warm  as  he 
at  the  moment.  The  maddening  voices  of  those 
cool  river-urchins  followed  him  as  he  turned  down 
a  long,  dusty,  sultry  street,  and  left  all  pleasing 
sights  and  sounds  behind. 

Having  delivered  his  potatoes,  he  retraced  his 
steps  slowly,  meditating  upon  many  things  which 
a  stern  moralist  would  scarcely  have  pronounced 
edifying.  Beaching  the  river,  he  without  hesita- 
tion turned  up  the  shore-road  instead  of  crossing 
the  bridge  which  led  to  the  city,  his  duty,  and  pa- 
tient Leni  waiting  for  the  truant.  The  boys'  voices 
ceased  to  irritate  him,  and  induced  merely  a  re- 
sponsive and  expectant  smile.  "  You  just  wait, 
you  fellows  !  "  was  the  language  of  his  whole  per- 
sonality. When  he  met  an  old  woman,  he  wiped 


134  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

his  face  on  his  sleeve  in  an  airy  and  negligent 
manner.  As  he  passed  some  men  talking  busily, 
without  a  glance  at  him,  he  looked  the  other  way 
and  whistled  very  loud.  He  also  stared  somewhat 
defiantly  at  a  group  of  little  girls  playing  with  dolls 
under  a  tree. 

But  no  one  knew  him,  nobody  stopped  him  ; 
there  was  nothing  whatever  to  turn  him  from  the 
course  which  he  had  undertaken ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that,  being  a  resolute  nature,  after  he 
had  once  made  up  his  mind  to  backslide,  he  back- 
slid with  great  rapidity  and  aplomb.  Farther  and 
farther  he  strayed  from  the  path  of  rectitude,  fol- 
lowing the  shore,  soon  leaving  the  little  town  be- 
hind and  finding  green  country  ways — a  meadow 
belted  with  poplars,  and  the  river-bank  thick  with 
alders  and  willows.  The  dense  shrubbery  was 
what  he  sought,  since  he  had  no  pfennigs  for  a 
dressing-room  and  bathing-gear,  like  those  opulent 
fellows  down  by  the  island.  But  little  cared  he 
for  that,  as  he  quickly  left  clothes  and  basket  un- 
der a  bush,  and  plunged  into  the  tempting  depths 
with  a  rapturous  sense  of  freedom  and  power,  as 
if  he  could  ride  the  crest  of  a  wave  as  well  as  any 
Triton  of  them  all. 

His  enjoyment  was  vast,  and  unruffled  by  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  135 

faintest  breath  of  self-reproach.  His  conscience 
for  the  moment  was  dormant.  This  water  was  what 
he  had  craved,  and  now  that  he  had  it,  he  basked 
and  revelled  and  gloried  in  it,  from  the  crown  of 
his  head  to  the  tips  of  his  toes.  After  some  time 
devoted  to  purely  physical  enjoyment,  an  infinite 
variety  of  dolphin  tricks,  lazy  self-communion,  and 
the  agreeable  discovery  that  he  had  gained  wind, 
strength,  and  stroke,  he  deigned  to  cast  his  eyes 
upon  the  world  of  which  he  had  been  utterly  ob- 
livious. 

At  some  distance  beyond  his  bush  dressing- 
room,  the  shore  curved  gently  toward  lawns  and 
villas,  while  across  the  little  cove  stood  an  old 
brown  building  which  looked  like  a  mill.  It  was 
the  Water  House  of  which  he  had  heard  some  talk 
at  the  market.  It  served  to  regulate  and  control 
the  supply  of  water  for  the  mills,  and  was  also  im- 
mortalized in  school-girl  drawing-books,  budding 
talent  sketching  from  nature  being  often  conducted 
to  this  picturesque  spot.  The  stream  near  it  had 
the  reputation  of  treacherous  currents  and  eddies, 
and  was  a  dangerous  and  unlucky  place  for  swim- 
mers, which  prudent  children  should  avoid ;  but 
proud  experts  occasionally  sought  its  whirling 
waters.  Franzl,  peering  about  in  every  direction, 


136  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

thought  it  would  be  a  fine  thing  to  go  up  and  swim 
in  the  "  Whirlpool,"  and  then  brag  of  it.  Inspired 
by  this  lofty  motive,  he  struck  out  toward  the 
Water  House.  Swimming  into  the  cove,  he  pres- 
ently perceived  two  or  three  boys  walking  on  logs 
which,  loosely  bound  together,  made  an  insecure 
floor  far  out  over  the  water.  On  the  shore  a  little 
girl  was  hopping  frantically  about,  and  calling  to 
them  to  come  back.  He  would  have  recognized 
the  motions,  even  without  the  voice,  as  Hildegard 
Normann's,  and  instantly,  with  the  consciousness 
of  Kurt's  presence,  Franzl's  intense  joy  in  his  es- 
capade was  dead  and  gone.  The  water  might  have 
been  sawdust  for  all  the  pleasure  it  gave  him.  He 
watched  the  boys  greedily,  the  old  tormenting 
thoughts  reborn  in  his  heart,  as  he  saw  Kurt  ad- 
vancing, laughing,  chattering,  boasting,  pushing, 
being  pushed,  and  calling  teasing  replies  to  the 
frightened  little  girl  on  shore.  Franzl  determined 
to  swim  nearer,  "  show  off,"  and  do  some  things 
Kurt  couldn't  for  the  life  of  him. 

The  boys  in  high  glee  grew  more  reckless  every 
moment.  Kurt  was  on  a  nearly  detached  log,  dar- 
ing the  others  to  follow,  and  announcing  mockingly 
that  nobody  was  so  sure-footed  and  cool-headed  as 
he.  Thus  taunted,  one  of  his  friends  stepped  on 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  137 

the  other  end,  the  log  bobbed,  pitched,  rolled,  and 
precipitated  both  boys  into  the  water.  Hildegard 
screamed,  Franzl  laughed  with  malicious  delight, 
the  boys  talked  all  together,  one  knelt  and  helped 
his  friend,  who  succeeded  in  clutching  the  slippery 
bark  and  scrambled  into  safety.  He  stood  a  drip- 
ping and  discomfited  figure,  gesticulating,  and  ex- 
plaining how  he  had  happened  to  fall.  Franzl 
swam  nearer,  laughing  still  and  thinking  it  awfully 
good  fun.  Hildegard,  shrieking  wildly,  had  run 
up  the  bank  for  help.  But  where  was  Kurt? 
Franzl  had  not  seen  him  rise  once.  The  boys,  too, 
were  evidently  anxious. 

"  Kurt !  "  they  cried.  "  Kurt,  come  up!  Don't 
fool  any  more  !  " 

The  moment  Franzl  became  conscious  that  there 
was  actual  danger,  he  shot  forward  with  all  his 
strength  and  speed  to  the  rescue.  He  was  pos- 
sessed soul  and  body  by  the  instinct  to  save  a  hu- 
man life,  his  "every  sense  was  on  the  alert. 

"He's  under  the  log,"  he  thought,  "and  the 
current  is  too  strong  for  him  and  he's  got  his 
clothes  on." 

Like  a  flash  he  turned  and  swam  some  rods 
below  the  place  of  the  accident,  plunged  deep, 
swimming  under  water  and  under  the  logs.  He 


138  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

saw  nothing  and  came  up  an  instant  to  the  sur- 
face. 

"  Oh,  haven't  you  got  him  ?  "  cried  the  fright- 
ened boys. 

Franzl  dived  again. 

With  his  blurred  under-water  vision,  he  per- 
ceived a  big  dark,  indistinct  mass  which  he  with 
a  bound  approached.  He  clutched  Kurt's  hair 
and  then  his  coat,  swam  with  one  arm  and  dragged 
the  heavy  weight — how  he  never  knew — but  he 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  remember  where  the 
logs  lay,  and  not  lose  his  bearings,  so  that  he 
could  get  to  an  opening  as  soon  as  possible.  The 
current  was  so  powerful  he  had  to  swim  with  it, 
and  presently  saw  by  the  light  that  they  were 
freed  from  their  dangerous  prison  and  could  come 
up  to  the  surface.  With  his  last  strength  he  got 
his  right  arm  around  Kurt,  the  other  round  a  log, 
and  hung  breathless,  exhausted,  clutching  him 
frantically  and  in  mortal  terror  that  he  was  dead. 
His  face  was  ghastly,  his  eyes  staring,  his  mouth 
open,  his  head  fell  helplessly  forward.  Fraiizl 
kept  the  poor  head  above  water.  Men  were  al- 
ready gathered  on  the  bank,  and  several,  half- 
stripped,  had  plunged  for  the  two  children.  As 
rapidly  as  they  came,  it  seemed  ages  to  Franzl  be- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  139 

fore  they  removed  the  cold  unconscious  body  from 
his  convulsive  embrace. 

The  Normanns'  coachman  took  Kurt  in  his  arms. 

"  The  poor  boy's  dead,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  bore 
him  away  ;  "  quite  dead." 

"  You  rub  him,"  cried  Franzl,  fiercely.  "  Don't 
you  let  him  be  dead ! " 

"  Here,  you  brave  little  fellow,  take  my  hand 
and  come  up,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"Who  are  you?  What  is  his  name?"  asked 
several  voices. 

Franzl's  heart  was  ready  to  burst  with  excite- 
ment and  fear.  Without  a  word  he  swam  off  to 
get  rid  of  the  strangers,  but  not  far,  for  he  was 
weak.  On  the  bank,  in  the  sunshine,  screened  by 
clustering  bushes,  he  stretched  himself  out  and 
grew  warm  again.  Overcome  by  fatigue  he  slept, 
how  long  he  did  not  know,  but  it  was  about  noon 
he  saw  by  the  sun  when  he  awoke.  Strengthened, 
but  still  feeling  queer  and  shaky,  he  swam  down 
the  stream  to  the  spot  where  his  little  mound  of 
personal  effects,  with  the  potato-basket  as  private 
seal  on  top,  stood  unmolested. 

Soon  he  was  crossing  the  bridge  upon  which  he 
had  loitered  before  all  this  happened.  The 
bridge  was  the  same,  but  its  glamour  had  departed. 


140  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Nothing  had  any  charm  for  him.  When  he 
reached  the  market,  he  was  relieved  to  find  that 
Leni  had  gone  home.  He  was  so  very  drowsy 
that  after  eating  a  bit  of  bread,  he  concluded  to 
disappear  under  a  bench  where  the  women  would 
not  be  apt  to  look  for  him,  and  here,  concealed  also 
by  an  empty  meal -bag,  he  fell  into  a  long,  profound 
sleep,  from  which  he  waked  refreshed  and  well. 

All  his  thoughts  were  with  Kurt.  Was  he  dead  ? 
Must  he  die  ?  When  Franzl  approached  the  Nor- 
mann  house  that  evening,  his  heart  beat  fast,  and 
he  could  not  muster  courage  to  go  in  and  ask 
Nanni  what  he  longed  and  feared  to  know.  He 
saw  a  little  boy  in  the  park  and  prevailed  upon 
him  to  run  up  and  ask  the  cook  if  the  boy  that 
had  fallen  into  the  water  was  dead  or  alive.  The 
child  went  willingly,  and  Franzl  waited,  consumed 
by  anxiety  and  dread. 

"  He's  alive.  They've  worked  over  him  all  day. 
They  thought  he  was  dead.  But  his  mother 
wouldn't  give  him  up  when  everybody  else  thought 
he  was  gone.  The  whole  family  is  out  there  in  the 
friend's  house,  where  his  mother  was  making  a 
visit  when  it  happened.  They  have  just  tele- 
phoned the  cook.  She  is  crying  and  laughing 
like  anything." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  141 

Franzl  gave  the  astonished  boy  a  violent  shake 
and  a  hug,  and  resumed  his  homeward  way,  tears 
rolling  down  his  cheeks.  It  was  a  matter  of  utter 
indifference  to  him  that  some  boys  hooted  and 
called  him  "  cry-baby."  He  experienced  no  de- 
sire to  punch  them. 

The  long  walk  quieted  his  excitement  some- 
what, and  Leni,  in  the  twilight,  perceived  noth- 
ing unusual  in  his  manner  as  he  entered  the 
kitchen. 

"  Why  did  you  stay  away  so  long  ?  "  she  asked 
coldly,  as  she  gave  him  his  supper. 

"  I  went  swimming." 

"  What  made  you  do  it,  when  I  said  I  needed 
you?" 

"  The  water  made  me.  It  put  the  old  Nick  into 
me,  Leni." 

She  repressed  a  smile,  hesitated,  and  finally 
said :  * 

"  I  should  have  scolded  you  well  if  I'd  been 
there  when  you  came  back  to  the  market.  But 
it's  a  good  many  hours  since  then,  and — the  first 
time  you've  run  off.  Don't  do  it  again." 

"  Then  you'd  better  not  send  me  over  there," 
he  returned,  now  dwelling  with  delight  on  the  re- 
membrance of  his  swim. 


142  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  I  would  rather  send  you,  and  give  you  time 
to  go  in,"  she  rejoined,  quietly.  "  I  didn't  say, 
Don't  swim  again.  I  said,  Don't  run  away  again. 
It  isn't  business." 

'!  You're  a  good  one,"  he  exclaimed,  gratefully. 

He  found  the  warm  soup  comforting,  Leni  had 
been  generous  toward  his  misdemeanor,  and  Kurt 
was  going  to  have  his  other  face  again,  not  that 
wet,  awful  one.  Altogether  things  were  happy, 
yet  he  could  not  help  living  over  that  terrible 
strain  and  pull. 

Presently  he  said,  in  a  shy,  indifferent  tone : 

"  There  were  some  other  fellows  out  there." 

"  Were  there  ?  "  Leni  replied,  her  thoughts  else- 
where. 

"  One  of  them  fell  off  a  log." 

"  Did  he  ?  "  the  girl  said,  mechanically. 

"  I  got  his  head  up." 

"Did  you?" 

"Yes,  and  he's  all  right." 

There  was  a  strong  note  of  exultation  in  his 
voice,  but  Leni  was  not  paying  attention. 

After  a  long  pause  he  said : 

"It  isn't  much  use  to  hate  people,  is  it, 
Leni?" 

"I  don't  know  that    I  ever  really  hated  any- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  143 

body,"  she  returned,  with  a  sigh,  "  but  sometimes 
I  don't  like,  about  as  hard  as  I  can." 

"  Because,"  continued  the  child,  "  after  you  hate 
them  you  have  to  unhate  them,  and  then  you  find 
you've  been  wasting  your  thoughts." 


IX. 


FBANZL'S  desire  to  see  Kurt's  "  old  "  face,  with  its 
supercilious  and  insolent  smile,  was  so  great  that 
he  entered  the  Normanns'  courtyard  with  his  full 
cans,  a  good  half-hour  earlier  than  usual.  He  felt 
extremely  sheepish,  not  in  the  least  from  over- 
weening consciousness  of  heroism,  but  simply  be- 
cause he,  for  the  first  time  since  the  day  he  met 
Kurt,  did  not  approach  the  house  eager  to  take 
offence  and  with  scowling  animosity  seated  on  his 
brow. 

He  was  therefore  astonished  beyond  measure 
when  buxom  Nanni  hugged  and  kissed  him  tu- 
multuously,  and  Hildegard  seized  his  hands  and 
danced  up  and  down  and  said  :  "  Oh,  dear  me, 
oh,  dear  me,  oh,  dear  me,  oh,  dear  me ! "  as  fast  as 
her  tongue  would  go,  and  could  think  of  nothing 
more  appropriate  to  remark.  But  his  discomfort 
increased  tenfold  when  Kurt's  dreaded  mamma 
wept  over  him,  and  poured  incoherent  ejacula- 
tions upon  him,  and  Fraulein  Doris  smiled  like  an 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  145 

angel  and  murmured,  "  Dear  little  boy !  Dear 
Franzl !  "  and  finally  took  his  hand  and  led  him 
along  the  corridor,  saying  : 

"  Papa  wants  you.     You  must  come  to  papa." 

This  was  the  worst  of  all.  Not  like  a  conquer- 
ing hero,  but  frowning  and  reluctant,  the  boy  en- 
tered the  Major's  study  and  stood  with  the  air  of 
a  culprit  before  the  tribunal. 

The  tall  officer  rose  from  his  chair  at  the  writ- 
ing-table, came  forward  with  his  long  military  step, 
and  without  a  word  looked  for  some  moments  at 
the  little  figure. 

"  My  brave  little  man  " — the  voice  accustomed 
to  command  a  squadron,  was  low  and  unsteady — 
"  you  have  made  me  your  debtor  for  life."  Von 
Normann  placed  his  hands  on  Franzl's  shoul- 
ders. 

The  boy  squirmed  and  wished  he  were  on  the 
other  side*  of  the  door,  but  presently  became  in- 
terested in  the  major's  long-legged  boots. 

"  You  risked  your  life  for  my  beloved  son,"  the 
deep  voice  went  on,  "and  you  have  made  us  a 
glad  house  this  day,  instead  of  a  house  of  mourn- 
ing." 

Now,  Franzl  had  not  looked  at  the  matter  in  this 
light,  and  the  close  proximity  of  the  gentleman, 


146  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

together  with  the  solemnity  of  his  tone,  rendered 
the  child  hopelessly  unreceptive  of  other  people's 
views  of  his  conduct  as  well  as  taciturn  as  to  his 
own.  Having  his  chin  raised — a  procedure  which 
he  detested — and  being  forced  to  bear  a  long, 
thoughtful  scrutiny,  he  discovered  with  surprise, 
that  in  spite  of  the  gray  hair,  weather-beaten  face, 
and  the  bigness  and  awfulness  of  the  major,  he 
had  Fraulein  Doris's  gentle  questioning  gaze. 

"  Such  a  child,"  murmured  von  Normann,  "  and 
such  courage !  To  think  what  it  is  you  have  done 
for  me — restored  to  me  !  To  think  that  you  have 
saved  my  only  son's  life  !  " 

"  I  got  his  head  up,"  Franzl  admitted,  in  a  tone 
which  from  embarrassment  sounded  sullen. 

"  Got  his  head  up  !  You  saved  him — swam 
with  him — pulled  him  along  under  those  logs,  a 
merciful  Heaven  alone  knows  how — and  Kurt  as 
large  as  you  ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  bigger,"  Franzl  broke  out,  "  and  a 
great  deal  stronger.  I  could  have  pulled  him  out 
if  he'd  been  twice  as  heavy." 

A  twinkle  was  visible  an  instant  in  the  major's 
eyes. 

"  It  was  not  only  your  strength,"  he  said,  simply, 
it  was "  He  hesitated.  He  had  the  kindest 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  147 

heart  in  the  world,  and  a  loyal,  grateful  spirit,  and 
was  resolved  to  watch  and  further  this  boy's  in- 
terests always ;  but  the  good  major  entertained 
thoroughly  conservative  views,  and  disapproved  of 
turning  the  heads  of  the  lower  classes  even  if  they 
did  save  lives.  The  boy,  it  was  true,  with  stur- 
dy unconsciousness  of  the  greatness  of  his  deed, 
seemed  to  regard  it  merely  as  an  exhibition  of 
muscle.  But  perhaps  he  had  had  praise  enough 
for  the  moment.  The  women  would  surely  spoil 
him  if  they  could.  It  would  be  wisest  to  find  out 
gradually  what  would  be  best  for  him,  to  study 
his  tastes,  capabilities,  and  wishes.  Physically,  he 
was  a  beautiful  specimen,  and  no  man  could  have 
evinced  a  more  gallant  spirit.  It  was  a  respon- 
sibility— a  sacred  duty  to  do  the  right  thing  for 
him.  In  the  meantime  until  graver  matters  should 
be  decided,  one  could  give  the  little  fellow  a  great 
pleasure. 

"  We  shall  have  time  to  talk  of  many  things 
when  we  know  each  other  better,"  the  major  said, 
amiably ;  "  I  am  going  to  look  well  after  you." 

To  Franzl  this  sounded  ominous  as  well  as 
superfluous,  since  he  was  perfectly  able  to  look 
after  himself.  He  stared  and  said  nothing. 

"But  tell  me  some  wish  of  yours,  something 


148  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

that  you  want  very  much  " — the  major  went  on  in 
the  kindest  tone — "  something  that  I  can  do  at 
once  to  make  this  a  happy  day  for  you." 

He  waited,  smiling  indulgently  upon  the  shabby, 
handsome  boy,  and  rather  curious  to  hear  his 
reply. 

"  Oh,  it's  happy  enough.  There  isn't  anything 
the  matter  with  it,"  Franzl  answered,  unabashed 
now  that  the  major  was  asking  him  straight  ques- 
tions and  not  making  him  feel  foolish. 

That  gentleman  concluded  the  boy's  apparent 
indifference  might  be  a  concession  to  peasant-eti- 
quette, and  waited  with  benevolent  expectation. 

"  Well  ?  What  shall  it  be  ?  What  shall  I  give 
you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  Franzl  replied,  his  manner  so  sim- 
ple, his  glance  so  bold  and  direct,  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  doubt  his  sincerity. 

"  Nothing?  "  repeated  the  major. 

"  Why,  no,"  the  boy  returned,  smiling  charming- 
ly, for  he  thought  he  would  have  a  room  like  that 
by-and-by,  with  armor  and  guns  and  swords,  and  a 
big  horn  crosswise  on  the  wall. 

"  But  you  really  must  tell  me  something,  my 
dear  boy,"  urged  the  major.  "  Give  me  the  hap- 
piness of  doing  some  trifling  service  for  you  to- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  149 

day.  You  surely  have  needs  and  wants.  Every- 
body has.  If  I  should  propose  this  to  my  boy,  he 
would  tell  me  fifty  things,  I  assure  you.  Don't 
hesitate.  Don't  be  shy.  Kemember  it  was  my 
darling's  life  that  you  saved.  I  can  never,  never 
do  enough  for  you." 

"I  went  swimming  for  fun,"  Franzl  remarked 
stolidly.  "  They  don't  pay  you  for  swimming." 

"  Good  heavens,  child,"  von  Normann  ex- 
claimed, not  without  a  trace  of  impatience  at  this 
obtuseness  or  opposition ;  "  can't  you  understand 
it's  my  son's  life  we  are  discussing  ?  I  presume 
you  won't  deny  that  you  saved  him." 

"I  suppose  I  did,"  Franzl  conceded,  reflectively, 
"  but  I'd  have  gone  for  anybody  else  as  quick. 
When  you  see  them  fall  in,  and  don't  see  them 
come  up  again,  you  have  to  go  for  them,  you 
know." 

Von  N&rmann  gave  him  a  keen  glance,  turned, 
and  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 

The  boy's  gaze  followed  the  stately,  martial  fig- 
ure with  approval.  He  would  have  a  uniform, 
too,  some  day,  with  tight  legs,  high  boots,  and  all. 

"  Let  us  be  serious,"  said  the  Major.  "  I  shall 
put  some  money  in  the  bank  for  you  to-day,  for 
one  thing." 


150  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Franzl  looked  quite  unconcerned.  The  only 
money  which  he  understood  was  money  that  he 
could  see,  feel,  and  chink. 

"  But  we  can  talk  of  that  later,"  the  major  con- 
tinued, edified  to  observe  that  the  child  evinced 
no  desire  to  occupy  himself  with  so  vague  and  un- 
interesting a  subject. 

"  What  the  deuce  of  a  boy  it  is  ! "  thought  von 
Normann.  "One  can  make  no  headway  with 
him." 

"Now  see  here.     I  haven't  much  time." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  returned  Franzl,  pleasantly. 

The  major  smiled,  put  his  hands  behind  him, 
and  looked  down  steadily  at  his  guest. 

Franzl  also,  very  erect,  and  with  his  hands  be- 
hind him,  stood  watching  with  much  interest  the 
phenomenon  of  Fraulein  Doris's  pleasant  eyes 
under  bushy  gray  eyebrows. 

"  The  children  call  you  Franzl.     Franzl  what  ?  " 

"  Reiner." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"  Twelve  in  January." 

"  Tyrolean,  as  I  hear  from  your  accent." 

"  From  Heilig-Kreuz,  in  the  Venter  Thai." 

"  You  have  snow  enough  there,  eh  ?  " 

"They  have  more  at  Vent.     The  avalanches 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  151 

snow  them  up  there  for  six  or  eight  months.  But 
I  could  come  down  in  March  from  Heilig-Kreuz." 

"  You  came  down  in  March  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  to  the  child-market  in  Eavensburg." 

"Not  alone?" 

"  I  started  alone — and  was  alone  in  the  moun- 
tains. Down  below  sometimes  I  met  people,  and 
sometimes  I  didn't." 

"  What  is  your  father  ?  " 

"  He  was  a  hunter  and  guide.  He  is  dead — my 
mother  too." 

"  Ah !  No  family,  then  ?  No  brothers  and 
sisters  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  family — a  small  one." 

"  But  not  here." 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"You  are  with  Christian  Lutz?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Does  lie  treat  you  well  ?  " 

"  Well  enough.  But  it's  Leni  I  see  most.  She 
is  good." 

"  How  long  do  you  work  a  day  ?  " 

"  From  half -past  four  in  the  morning  till  eight  in 
the  evening." 

"  Enough  to  eat  ?  " 

"  Yes." 


152  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Anything  to  complain  of  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Hm ! "  said  the  major. 

"  Of  course  !  "  thought  Franzl.  "  They  always 
have  to  '  Hm  '  at  a  fellow." 

"  You  are  young  to  pull  that  cart  from  Wald- 
heim  to  Wynburg." 

"  The  older  ones  don't  pull  theirs  better." 

Aiter  a  moment  the  major  asked : 

"Have  you  thought  what  trade  you'd  like  to 
learn  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought,  but  haven't  decided  yet." 

"If  you'll  decide,  I'll  see  to  the  details.  I'll 
get  you  a  good  place  at  once." 

"  But  I  like  it  where  I  am.  I  like  Leni.  Then 
I'm  sold  till  next  March.  He  bought  me  at  the 
child-market." 

"  But  I  could  buy  you  on  higher  terms.  I  know 
Lutz.  You'll  find  he'll  sell." 

"  You  can't  sell  yourself  for  a  year,  and  then  cut 
it  short,"  Franzl  gravely  explained.  "  It  would  be 
like  cheating  when  you  measure  milk.  That  isn't 
business." 

The  major  laughed  heartily. 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Franzl.  Your  logic  beats 
mine  every  time.  Keep  your  engagement,  by  all 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  153 

means.  And  March  is  not  very  far  off.  But  don't 
sell  yourself  to  anybody  else  before  coming  to  me. 
I  promise  to  pay  highest.  By  the  way,  what  is  the 
Ravensburg  market-price  for  a  fine  little  fellow  like 
you  ?  " 

"Fifty  marks,"  was  the  proud  reply.  "Only 
very  few  old  boys  get  more." 

"  Upon  my  word !  "  exclaimed  the  major,  ab- 
ruptly ;  then  again  and  more  vigorously  :  "  Upon 
my  word !  "  but  Franzl  had  no  idea  what  he  meant. 

"  Once  more  and  for  the  last  time,  there  is  pos- 
itively nothing  that  you  want?  " 

"  Oh,  there  are  some  things  I  want,  but  you  see 
I  am  going  to  get  them  myself  later,"  the  child  re- 
plied, with  his  brave  young  voice. 

"  Which  means  that  there  is  nothing  whatever 
you  want  of  me  to-day  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

The  major  raised  his  eyebrows  and  shook  his 
head  slightly. 

"  Then  I  wish  I  was  as  rich  as  you,  and  as  inde- 
pendent." 

The  boy  was  looking  critically  at  a  rifle  on  the 
wall. 

Yon  Normann  took  it  down  and  put  it  in  the 
child's  hands,  saying  pleasantly  : 


154  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

"It  is  too  long  for  you,  or  you  could  have  it. 
Would  you  like  a  small  one  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  no,"  Franzl  returned,  with  dignity. 
"I  have  one  of  my  own  at  home.  It  was  my 
father's,  and  it  is  quite  as  long  as  this  one." 

The  major  turned  to  replace  the  rifle  and  conceal 
a  smile,  asked  Franzl  to  wait  an  instant,  and  left 
the  room. 

"  Doris,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  that's  a  child  after 
my  own  heart.  Sturdy,  sound,  brave,  and  proud 
as  a  Spanish  grandee.  But  peasant  pride,  you 
know.  No  sickly  longings  to  rise  above  his  sta- 
tion ;  no  discontent ;  no  desire  for  luxuries.  Why, 
my  dear  girl,  would  you  believe  it,  I  have  tried  my 
best  and  I  can't  induce  him  to  say  he  wants  any- 
thing whatever !  You  must  try,  Doris.  Perhaps 
you  will  wheedle  it  out  of  him.  You'd  wheedle 
anything  out  of  anybody." 

"  I'm  wheedling  a  deep  wrinkle  out  of  your  fore- 
head, papa,"  smoothing  it  with  her  soft  palm. 
"  It's  a  very  peculiar  wrinkle,  and  always  comes 
when  you  mount  your  hobby  that  people  should 
be  contented  in  their  stations.  But  I'm  glad  you 
like  Franzl.  We  would  love  him  whatever  he  was, 
for  what  he  did  yesterday,  but  he  is  really  a  lovely 
boy,  papa." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  155 

"  There  is  admirable  stuff  in  him,  if  he  doesn't 
get  notions.  I  don't  want  him  spoiled  in  this 
house,  you  understand." 

"  Oh,  papa,  as  if  you  wouldn't  spoil  him  first  of 
all !  As  if  you  hadn't  spoiled  all  of  us ! " 

"  That's  altogether  different.  But  we'll  talk  of 
these  things  later.  Try  to  gain  his  confidence  and 
help  him  to  think  of  something  he  wants.  I  asked 
him  casually,  supposing  he  would  answer  on  the 
instant  like  any  other  child.  He  looks  so  honest  I 
must  believe  him,  yet  it  is  incredible  that  the  little 
rascal  has  risen  above  all  human  wants  and  de- 
sires. So  I'm  puzzled  and  feel  like  carrying  my 
point.  No  doubt  you  can  do  better  with  him,  but 
don't  flatter  him,  Doris.  There  is  refreshing  in- 
tegrity in  the  boy." 

"  You  wouldn't  accuse  me  of  tampering  with  it, 
would  you,  papa,  if  I  should  give  him  a  large  slice 
of  bread-and-butter,  spread  extra  thick  with  straw- 
berry jam  ?  " 

"  I  must  go,"  Franzl  said,  at  once,  as  father  and 
daughter  returned  to  the  study.  "  I  must  hurry,  or 
I  shall  be  late." 

"  But  you'll  come  back  ?  I  want  to  see  you  so 
much,  and  Kurt  has  asked  for  you.  He's  fallen 
asleep  again  now." 


156  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Oh,  I  can't.  You  see  I  ran  away  yesterday. 
I  can't  again  to-day." 

"  No,  we  don't  want  any  deserters,"  the  major 
said,  smiling.  "  But  what  have  you  to  do  ?  " 

"There's  no  market.  After  my  rounds  I  go 
home  and  work." 

"  If  I  make  it  right  with  Lutz  ?  If  I  say  I  am 
keeping  you  ?  " 

Franzl  still  looked  doubtful. 

"How  will  he  know?" 

"  I'll  send  my  Bursch." 

Franzl's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  A  soldier  on  horseback  with  a  message  about 
me?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  he  say  it  loud,  so  that  all  the  men  will 
hear?" 

"  His  voice  is  powerful,"  the  major  said,  sober- 
ly, "  and  I  will  give  him  special  orders  to  roar." 

"  And  the  milk-cart  ?  " 

"  Must  it  go  back  at  once  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  Franzl  returned,  instructively. 
"Didn't  you  know  they  wash  the  cans?" 

"  At  least  I  have  always  hoped  so,"  the  major 
rejoined,  meekly.  "He  can  take  it  up,  I  sup- 
pose." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  157 

"  A  man  in  uniform  with  my  milk-cart  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Franzl  flushed. 

"  All  right.     I'll  come." 

"  When  and  where  shall  he  meet  you  ?  " 

"  Here,  at  eleven." 

The  Bursch  and  Franzl  were  both  punctual. 
After  giving  the  man  some  lordly  directions,  the 
boy  went  into  the  house.  Doris  received  him  and 
led  him  at  once  into  her  mamma's  dressing-room, 
where  Kurt  was  installed  hi  high  state. 

"  Mamma  can't  let  him  out  of  her  sight,"  the 
young  girl  informed  him.  "She  has  to  look  at 
him  every  instant  to  see  that  he  is  all  there.  But 
I  don't  blame  her." 

The  room  was  slightly  darkened ;  there  was  a 
mingling  of  sweet  odors  in  the  air,  a  profusion  of 
rose-color  and  lace  on  the  bed  where  Kurt  lay — 
"  swaddling  clothes,"  he  disrespectfully  called  his 
environment. 

"  I  wouldn't  miss  this  meeting  for  worlds ! " 
whispered  Frau  von  Normann  to  Doris. 

"  Hullo,  Franzl,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Kurt,  with 
a  very  dreadful  leer. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  returned  Franzl,  with  a  grin. 

Kurt  put  out  his  hand.     Franzl  took  it. 


158  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  I  say — that  was  a  muddle !  "  remarked  the  in- 
valid ;  which  was  all  the  speechifying  ever  made  by 
the  two  upon  the  subject  of  Kurt's  danger  and 
Franzl's  pluck,  or  any  emotional  phase  of  the  acci- 
dent— at  least  while  they  were  cubs. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  up  ?  "  Franzl  demanded 
bluntly,  after  some  minutes  employed  in  a  satisfy- 
ing stare  at  Kurt's  face,  which  had  lost  not  a  whit 
of  its  mocking  flexibility. 

"  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know  myself,"  drawled 
Kurt.  "  I  suppose  I  must  have  hit  my  head  on 
the  log.  Papa  thinks  so.  I  don't  remember  a 
blessed  thing  from  the  moment  I  fell  until  I 
opened  my  eyes  in  a  strange  room,  and  mamma 
was  crying  all  over  me." 

"I  shouldn't  have  hit  my  head,"  Franzl  as- 
serted, with  extreme  arrogance ;  "  or  if  I  had — 

"Oh,  come,  now!"  interrupted  Kurt,  hotly. 
"  I'd  just  like  to  know  how  you'd  have  helped  it." 

But  before  Franzl  could  expound  his  theories, 
discreet  Doris,  observing  signs  of  electric  disturb- 
ances in  the  atmosphere,  had  drawn  him  out  of  the 
room,  telling  him  Kurt's  chest  still  troubled  him, 
and  talking  made  him  cough. 

Frau  von  Normann  frequently  described  the 
scene  to  her  chosen  friends,  and  declared  that  it 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  159 

was  the  most  touching  thing  she  ever  saw,  and  it 
was  no  doubt  in  her  eyes,  which  were  all  she  had 
to  see  with.  She  always  beheld  her  son's  head  in 
a  nimbus,  the  radiance  of  which  in  this  instance 
illumined  his  little  vagabond  companion.  After 
all,  Shakespeare  and  Goethe  could  only  see  with 
their  own  eyes ;  the  highest  and  meanest  of  us  are 
subject  to  this  limitation,  and  when  that  formid- 
able person,  the  critic  on  the  war-path,  seeks  to 
drive  poets  and  painters  all  in  one  direction,  he 
betrays  a  naive  egotism,  for  what  he  really  says 
is :  "  Paint  your  pictures  of  life  as  my  eyes  behold 
it,"  and  this  is  something  never  yet  on  land  or  sea ; 
for  only  a  woman  in  love  ever  sees  with  somebody 
else's  eyes — and  she  not  for  long.  "  Look  in  thine 
own  heart  and  write"  said  the  poet. 

Frau  von  Normann,  furthermore,  was  at  first  a 
little  annoyed  that  the  facts  of  the  drowning  epi- 
sode were  not  reversed.  It  would  have  seemed  to 
her  more  fitting  had  Kurt  saved  Franzl. 

Even  Sir  Walter  Scott  confessed  that  he  could 
not  repeat  a  story  without  giving  it  a  new  hat  and 
cane.  Frau  von  Normann  was  still  more  liberal. 
But  however  she  told  her  tale,  the  little  milk-boy, 
to  her  secret  surprise,  invariably  received  the  plau- 
dits and  bore  off  the  laurels.  She  gradually 


160  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

adapted  herself  to  the  situation,  took  Franzl  tinder 
her  wing  with  a  graciousness  which  was  exceed- 
ingly discomposing  to  him,  and  with  the  admirable 
mental  elasticity  of  a  certain  type  of  mother,  per- 
sisted in  interpreting  the  whole  episode  as  a  beau- 
tiful tribute  to  her  darling's  lovableness. 

"  Kurt  is  so  noble,  so  winning,"  she  declared. 
"  Everybody  loves  him.  Think  how  devotedly 
attached  to  him  that  child  must  have  been  to 
risk  his  life  for  him.  Really  it  shows  unusual 
power  of  appreciation  in  a  boy  of  his  station. 
Darling  Kurt ! " 


IN  Doris's  room,  Franzl  felt  uncommonly  com- 
fortable. She  did  not  ask  him  questions  like  the 
Major,  or  overpower  him  with  grandeur  and  lace- 
ruffles  like  her  mamma,  but  put  him  in  a  low 
chair,  gave  him  a  large  dish  of  peaches  and 
cream,  and  told  him  she  wanted  him  to  see  her 
cat,  for  he  was  a  very  curious  cat  with  most  orig- 
inal ways  of  his  own. 

"  OtheUo  !  "  she  called. 

A  great  silver-gray  Angora  cat  stalked  majesti- 
cally from  the  next  room. 

"  This  is  my  friend  Franzl,"  the  young  girl  po- 
litely informed  him. 

Franzl  laughed  incredulously. 

"  Oh,  he  can't  understand  that,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Watch  him  and  let  him  do  what  he  pleases." 

Othello  came  directly  to  Franzl,  sniffed  boots 
and  clothing,  stood  on  his  hind-legs  with  his 
broad  soft  paws  on  the  boy's  arm,  scented  him — 
hands,  face,  and  hair — gave  him  a  straight  long 


162  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

look  in  the  eyes,  turned  away,  and  lay  down  at 
Doris's  feet.  There  was  no  purring,  nothing  in- 
sinuating or  catty,  only  a  clear-headed,  cold,  and 
dignified  inspection  of  the  stranger. 

"  Why,  he's  like  a  dog  !  "  Franzl  cried. 

"  Indeed,  he  is  in  many  respects.  He  will  never 
do  that  again  to  you.  He  knows  you  now.  He 
examines  every  stranger,  and  has  strong  likes  and 
dislikes.  Mamma  has  some  visitors  at  whose  feet 
he  springs  the  moment  he  sees  them.  They  are 
not  very  fond  of  him.  He  treats  others  with  in- 
difference, and  some  he  likes  and  welcomes.  He 
doesn't  scratch,  that  is,  he  scratches  Kurt  but  has 
never  scratched  me.  He  has  a  way  of  lifting  his 
paw,  curving  it,  and  striking  swiftly  and  hard 
when  he  is  displeased.  He  is  fond  of  the  odor  of 
flowers,  particularly  violets." 

"  What  else  does  he  do  ?  "  demanded  Franzl, 
eagerly. 

"  He  plays  hide-and-seek  with  Kurt  and  Hilde- 
gard.  He  eats  fine  white  bread  of  a  particular 
kind  for  his  breakfast  and  won't  touch  any  other, 
and  he  doesn't  like  milk.  You  see  he  did  not 
deign  to  notice  your  cream." 

"  But  what  does  he  drink  ?  " 

"  Water,  and  sometimes  a  little  soup." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  163 

"  Is  he  your  own  cat  ?  " 

"Yes.  He  belonged  to  a  girl  friend  of  mine, 
and  it's  very  odd,  but  he  followed  me  home  sev- 
eral times,  very  solemn,  his  tail  straight  up  in  the 
air  like  a  flag-staff.  Finally  she  gave  him  to  me, 
and  although  she  lives  near  us,  he  has  never  gone 
back  once.  So  you  see  he  is  more  attached  to 
people  than  to  places,  and  that  is  more  like  a  dog 
than  a  cat,  isn't  it  ?  Altogether  he  is  a  very  re- 
markable animal,  aren't  you,  Othello  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  you  call  him  ?  " 

"Othello." 

"What's  that?" 

"  He's  a  man  in  a  story-book,  one  of  the  best 
story-books  in  the  world.  He  was  very  kind- 
hearted  but  jealous.  So  is  my  cat.  He  is  jealous 
when  I  write,  and  tries  to  knock  away  my  pen, 
and  waves  his  tail  between  me  and  the  paper.  He 
is  jealous  when  I  read,  and  calmly  puts  himself  be- 
tween me  and  my  book  and  brushes  my  face  with 
his  tail,  until  I  speak  to  him  and  pay  him  what  he 
thinks  is  proper  attention.  He  has  a  very  expres- 
sive tail.  His  name  used  to  be  Peter.  He  didn't 
mind  at  all  when  I  changed  it." 

"  And  you  didn't  say,  '  Kitty,  Kitty ! '  just  now, 
you  only  said  Othello  once." 


164  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  You  see,"  returned  Doris,  smiling.  "  He  is  a 
character.  Another  thing.  Look,  Franzl." 

She  took  a  bird-cage  from  its  place  at  the  win- 
dow and  put  it  on  the  floor.  Othello  opened  his 
eyes  lazily,  blinked  without  apparent  interest  or 
desire,  and  closed  them.  The  canary  paid  as  lit- 
tle attention  to  him. 

"  He  is  often  in  the  room  alone  with  Mignon, 
and  could  easily  put  his  paw  through  the  wires, 
but  never  goes  near  him." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  him  with  the  bird  out  of  the 
cage  ?  "  Franzl  asked,  excitedly.  "  Because  it 
would  be  awful  fun  to  see  if  he  goes  for  him,  you 
know.  Now,  if  you  should  let  the  bird  hop  along 
the  carpet  just  in  front  of  Othello's  nose  while  he's 
asleep?" 

"  It  might  be  fun  for  you  and  Othello,  but  I 
fancy  Mignon  wouldn't  enjoy  it  much,  and  it 
wouldn't  make  me  very  happy.  Othello  is  used  to 
the  cage,  but  not  to  birds  hopping  before  his  nose. 
While  I  admire  his  wonderfully  good  breeding, 
and  his  way  of  viewing  things  in  the  light  of  pure 
reason,  he  is  very  quick  and  fierce  sometimes,  and 
I  don't  know  what  wild-beast  instinct  might  tempt 
him  to  lift  that  swift  paw  and  slay  my  poor 
birdie,  before  he  remembered  what  a  fine  civilized, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  165 

genteel  cat  he  had  become.  Of  course,  he'd  be 
sorry  afterward,  but  that  wouldn't  help  Mignon  or 
me." 

"No,"  Franzl  admitted,  regretfully,  "but  it 
would  be  awfully  good  fun." 

Doris  smiled  and  rehung  the  bird-cage. 

"  What  did  you  call  that  bird  ?  " 

She  told  him. 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  that  ?  " 

"It's  only  French  for  darling,"  she  returned, 
carelessly. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  "  he  said,  encouraged ; "  it  isn't 
hard  when  you  know,  is  it  ?  " 

Suddenly  he  flushed,  started,  looked  excited,  un- 
certain, cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  pictures,  at  a 
book-case,  a  writing-table  upon  which  were  books 
and  papers,  at  the  young  girl  who  was  smiling  in 
the  sweetest,  most  tranquil  way,  rearranging  some 
violets  in  a  low  dish  on  the  table  near  her,  and  re- 
moving a  few  which  Othello  had  not  only  smelled 
but  chewed. 

"  Oh,"  Franzl  broke  out,  "  I  wish  you'd  tell  me 
what  the  great  crowd  of  men  coming  down  the 
middle  of  the  street  meant.  Kurt  was  in  front 
with  yellow  gloves.  What  were  they  doing  ?  What 
did  that  priest,  with  his  arm  out  and  his  head 


166  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

thrown  back,  want  ?  Why  did  they  whip  them- 
selves ?  Why  were  their  backs  bare  and  bloody  ? 
Why  were  they  so  hungry  and  thin  and  white,  with 
such  awful  eyes  ?  " 

Doris  walked  a  few  steps  away  from  him. 

"  Dear  little  Franzl !  "  she  murmured,  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  Why  did  they  have  that  child,  all  skin  and 
bone,  on  a  litter  ?  Why  did  they  kiss  his  clothes  ? 
Where  did  they  come  from  ?  Where  were  they  go- 
ing? Why  were  there  miles  and  miles  of  them 
coming  along  behind  as  far  as  you  could  see?" 

He  had  risen  and  approached  Doris,  until  he 
stood  close  to  her,  grasping  the  table,  scowling  in 
his  passionate  eagerness,  fiery  and  indomitable 
search  shining  in  his  eyes. 

Doris  covered  his  rough  brown  hands  with  her 
own. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  quite,  dear,"  she 
began. 

The  child  groaned. 

"  Oh,"  he  cried,  desperately,  "  not  even  you  !  " 
his  disappointment  so  intense  that  she  hastened 
to  say : 

"You  misunderstood,  Franzl.  I  can  tell  you, 
but  perhaps  you  wouldn't  understand,  because 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  167 

there  are  things  that  go  before  and  I  don't  exactly 
know  where  to  begin." 

"  I  don't  care  about  the  things  that  go  before. 
It's  those  men  I  want  to  know  about,"  he  said,  im- 
periously. 

"  It  was  a  great  many  hundred  years  ago — six 
or  seven  hundred — when  those  men  used  to  march 
through  the  streets  in  Italy." 

"  Is  it  true — what  you're  saying  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.  They  thought  it  would  please  God 
if  they  whipped  their  backs  until  they  bled." 

"  Did  it  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  believe  that  it  did.  But  all  over  the 
earth,  at  all  times,  among  all  nations,  people  have 
been  trying  to  find  God,  trying  to  please  him,  try- 
ing to  find  a  way  to  heaven  and  life  after  death  ; 
and  sometimes  they  have  done  very  queer  things, 
even  cruel  things,  because  when  a  great  many  men 
get  an  idea  into  their  heads  they  want  everybody 
else  to  think  exactly  as  they  do,  and  they'll  fight  for 
it  and  hurt  themselves  and  other  people  for  it,  and, 
it's  like  a  fever.  It  makes  them  wild,  and  they 
think  nobody  ought  to  have  any  way  but  their  way 
of  finding  God.  Is  it  too  hard  for  you,  Franzl  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  call  this  very  hard.  Were  they 
hunting  for  God  down  that  street  ?  " 


168  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

He  was  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  His  face 
almost  touched  hers.  His  eyes  devoured  hers. 
His  breath  was  quick  and  audible. 

She  hesitated,  considering  how  she  should  re- 
attack  the  subject. 

"  No,  dear.  It's  not  quite  that.  You  see,  there 
had  been  wars." 

"  Real,  wars  ?     Is  it  true  ?  " 

"  Real  and  terrible  wars  in  a  far-off  land." 

"What  were  they  fighting  about?  Did  those 
men  fight  ?  " 

"  Franzl,  you  must  try  not  to  be  quite  so — quick. 
You  want  the  whole  world  all  at  once.  The  wars 
were  about  the  Holy  Land.  The  Holy  Land  is  in 
the  East,  where  Christ  used  to  live.  A  great  many 
nations  sent  armies  to  take  the  land  away  from 
the  heathen.  There  were  long  wars  and  several 
times — seven  or  eight  wars,  and  they  didn't  ac- 
complish what  they  undertook.  However,  the 
nations  became  acquainted  and  learned  useful 
things  from  one  another,  and  a  great  many  from 
the  enemy  too.  But  afterward  there  was  confu- 
sion everywhere,  because  these  wars  had  made 
such  changes  in  people's  minds.  Besides,  when 
the  soldiers  came  home  they  brought  diseases 
with  them.  There  was  a  terrible  plague.  There 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  169 

was  a  famine.  Everything  was  topsy-turvy. 
Then  these  men  that  you  saw  in  the  picture 
started  up.  They  declared  God  was  angry  and 
the  only  way  to  please  him  was  to  scourge — that 
is,  whip  the  body.  Baptism  and  the  sacraments 
were  of  no  use,  they  said,  the  only  true  religion 
was  scourging.  So  they  marched  through  the 
streets  scourging  themselves,  and  all  the  time  peo- 
ple joined  them — rich  and  poor — young  and  old. 
I  am  afraid  I  don't  make  it  very  clear  to  you, 
Franzl?" 

"I  understand  very  well,"  he  said,  haughtily. 
"Fighting  isn't  hard  to  understand.  What  was 
that  priest  in  front  doing  ?  " 

"  He  was  motioning  to  the  people  to  clear  the 
way." 

"  What  were  they  doing  with  that  little  skin-and- 
bone  boy  with  his  eyes  sunken  in  ?  " 

"He  was  dying,  he  had  scourged  himself  so. 
He  was  almost  a  saint.  They  were  worshipping 
him." 

Franzl  drew  a  deep  breath,  as  if  an  enormous 
load  had  been  lifted  from  him.  How  much  or 
little  he  understood  she  had  no  idea.  His  face 
cleared,  he  smiled  brilliantly. 

"  Nothing's  hard  when  you  know  it,"  he  re- 


170  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

marked.  "But  I  wouldn't  have  been  any  such 
fool.  I'd  have  hit  some  other  fellow's  back.  I'd 
have —  He  did  not  finish  his  mighty  boasts 
audibly,  but  was  evidently  satisfied  with  his  reflec- 
tions. 

"  One  thing  more,  Franzl.  The  reason  you 
cared  about  the  picture,  the  reason  you  have  seen 
it  so  plainly  since,  is  because  it  is  a  strong  picture. 
If  a  poor  artist  had  painted  it,  you  would  have 
forgotten.  But  this  painter — his  name  is  Marr — 
felt  the  story  and  knew  how  to  tell  it  on  canvas 
and  make  it  real ;  and  that  is  why  the  procession 
comes  marching  down  toward  one  and  reaches  so 
far  behind,  and  is  so  moving  and  alive,  and  the 
figures  are  so  strong  and  the  faces  so  strained  and 
fierce." 

"  Did  any  of  them  ever  get  well  ?  " 

"  I  presume  so,"  she  replied,  with  an  amused 
look.  "  But,  Franzl,  I  haven't  told  you  their 
names.  The  Flagellants.  That  is  a  hard  word, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

"Words  are  never  hard  if  you  know  what 
they  mean,"  he  returned,  sententiously.  With 
infinite  confidence  in  Doris,  and  the  rattling  ease 
acquired  by  long  practice,  he  suddenly  opened 
fire: 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  171 

*  Phyllis  in-spe, 
Faun  altruistic, 
Incorrigible  quid-pro-quo, 
jEschylus  catapult, 
Walhalla  propensities, 
Bohemian  Hindu, 
Scylla  Charybdis, 
Encyclopaedia, 
Lupus-in-fabula, 
Ganymede  Berserker, 
Blessbleege  and  ethics. 

What  do  they  mean,  please  ?  " 

Doris  broke  into  uncontrollable  laughter. 

"  O  Franzl,  Franzl,  where  did  you  get  that 
rigmarole  ?  " 

"  Eigmarole — twenty-one  —  twenty-one — rigma- 
role," repeated  the  boy,  mechanically.  Then  with 
a  certain  anxiety : 

"  But  don't  you  know  them  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  she  returned,  laughing  a  little  still, 
in  spite  of  herself — "  if  you'll  say  them  slower.  I 
didn't  quite  hear  all  of  them." 

"  Are  they  funny  words  ?  "  he  asked,  solemnly. 

"  Not  at  all,  Franzl.  The  reason  I  laugh  is 
because  it  strikes  me  as  funny  for  a  little  boy  to 


172  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

say  them  together  and  all  at  once.  They  are  very 
good  words.  I'll  tell  you  all  I  can  about  them." 

"  I  didn't  hear  them  all  at  once,"  he  explained. 

"No,  I  presume  not.  And  why  did  you  say 
them  so,  so — quite  in  that  way  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I've  been  singing  them,  you  know,  going 
up  and  down  the  road." 

"  You  dear  child ! " 

"  I  was  afraid  I'd  forget,  so  I  hung  on  to  them 
by  my  teeth.  I  don't  forget  much  of  anything. 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  could,  because  I  can  never 
get  my  thinking  done,  and  it's  tiresome.  But  I 
thought  I  might  forget  these  because  I  only  heard 
them  a  word  at  a  time,  so  I  strung  them  together 
to  keep  them." 

"  Where  did  you  hear  them  ?  " 

"  Herr  Arno  said  most  of  them.  Herr  Hein- 
rich  some.  When  they  are  together  their  talk  is 
awful.  I  thought  I'd  have  to  wait  till  I  got  big, 
and  then  I  could  find  them  out  myself." 

"  But  have  you  asked  no  one  ?  Why  didn't  you 
ask  Herr  Arno?" 

"  I  did  almost — once — but  I  don't  know  him  as 
well  as  I  do  you  and  Leni,  and  he  began  to  sling 
some  more  at  me,  so  I  got  discouraged  and  gave  it 
up.  And  there  wasn't  anybody  else  to  ask  except 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY,  173 

Leni — and  she's  busy,  you  know,  and  she  says  she 
never  minds  such  nonsense.  I  suppose  that's  the 
way  she  feels,"  he  added  gallantly,  watching 
Doris,  with  a  sudden  air  of  defiance. 

"  I  presume  it  is,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  How  long 
have  you  stored  your  words  away  ?  " 

"  From  the  day  I  began  with  the  milk.  That 
was  in  March.  Herr  Arno  said  three  that  very 
morning." 

"  He  would  have  told  you  them  gladly  and  far 
better  than  I  can.  You  must  ask  him  next  time. 
He  would  be  pleased  to  have  you  ask  him  any- 
thing. He  never  dreamed  that  you  listened  or 
cared.  Now  say  your  words,  Franzl — very 
slowly." 

He  said  them  slowly,  loudly,  emphatically,  some 
right,  some  wrong,  some  dislocated  almost  beyond 
recognition,  his  eyes  fixed  earnestly  upon  hers, 
and  she  dared  not  laugh. 

She  explained  them  one  by  one,  as  simply  and 
briefly  as  she  could.  It  was  no  easy  task.  Franzl's 
interpolations  were  rather  mirth-provoking,  his 
comprehension  of  what  seemed  to  her  difficult 
points  sometimes  amazed  her,  while  easy  things 
were  often  hopelessly  beyond  his  grasp.  Toward 
the  Greek  gods  he  manifested  considerable  hostil- 


174:  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

ity  and  contempt.  "  Come  now,  Fraulein  Doris," 
he  remarked,  shaking  his  head  with  an  incredulous 
smile,  "that  isn't  sense — they've  been  lying  to 
you."  But  his  interest  was  unflagging,  his  cheeks 
were  flushed,  his  eyes  always  staring  into  hers. 

She  galloped  through  ancient  and  modern  times, 
history,  geography,  poetry,  mythology,  biography, 
and  the  dictionary,  and  paused  to  take  breath, 
wondering  what  manner  of  witches-dance  she  had 
created  in  the  unfortunate  child's  brain. 

"  Oh,"  said  Franzl,  "  I  like  it  awfully,  I  wanted 
it  more  than  anything.  All  these  months  they've 
been  whirling  inside  my  head.  Words  are  awful 
things  when  they  keep  at  you." 

"You  wanted  this  more  than  anything?"  she 
exclaimed.  "  This  ?  Only  to  be  told  what  these 
words  mean  ?  It  isn't  possible  that  this  is  your 
dearest  wish  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  it  deep  down  inside  of  me.  When 
it's  deep  inside  of  you,  you  can't  talk  about  it,  you 
know.  I  wanted  to  know  about  the  men  and  the 
words.  It  has  been  awful."  He  gave  a  long  sigh 
of  remembrance  and  relief. 

"  Oh,  papa,  what  a  shock  is  in  store  for  you ! " 
Doris  thought.  "  This  is  your  model-child  con- 
tented with  his  present  lot." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  175 

"  Now,"  said  Franzl  cheerfully,  his  mental  ap- 
petite unsatiated,  "  what  is  a  blessbleege  ?  " 

"A  what?" 

"A  blessbleege!  Herr  Arno  said  it  to  Kurt, 
and  Kurt  said  it  himself." 

She  bit  her  lip. 

"  Ah  yes,  I  see." 

She  looked  at  him  rather  hopelessly.  How  was 
she  ever  going  to  explain  to  this  milk-boy  the  su- 
premely proud  motto  of  her  proud  old  house  ?  She 
was  a  girl  of  modern  and  liberal  ideas.  No  mouldy 
prejudice  impeded  her  progress,  dimmed  her  sight, 
dwarfed  her  soul,  or  restrained  her  loving,  helpful 
hand,  nevertheless  she  cared  for  the  family  motto. 
While  she  had  no  overweening  vanity  in  her  long 
descent,  she  would  rather  than  not  look  back  upon 
a  fine  ancestral  perspective.  The  historical  dignity 
of  the  Normanns  was  interesting  to  her,  nor  did  it 
seem  to  her  a  worthless  thing  in  the  present,  that 
the  race  in  the  past  had  been,  taking  it  all  in 
all,  an  honorable  one.  Sometimes  she  wondered 
if  she  were  too  romantic,  if  the  merely  picturesque 
element  of  lineage  fascinated  her,  for  she  cherished 
an  affection  for  family  tradition  side  by  side  with 
what  her  father  considered  almost  revolutionary 
sentiments — a  sturdy  disregard  for  social  honors 


176  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

and  no  sympathy  with  certain  belittling  rubrics 
which  governed  the  women  about  her.  If  it  were 
an  advantage,  a  benign  influence  of  which  one 
might  frankly  be  glad,  to  have  able,  honorable,  and 
well-bred  parents,  then  why  not  also  be  honestly 
thankful  that  one's  grand-parents,  great-grand-par- 
ents, and  more  remote  progenitors  were  also  hon- 
orable? It  was  certainly  pleasanter  and  more 
promising  than  if  they  had  been  criminals.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  this  was  a  sensible  way  of  re- 
garding it,  and  she  wished,  for  her  part,  that  the 
whole  world  were  so  educated  that  each  soul,  not 
now  able  to  look  back  upon  satisfactory  ancestors, 
could  at  least  make  himself  worthy  of  becoming 
the  noble  ancestor  of  a  future  line.  Aristocracy 
of  mind  and  character — when  all  should  reach 
it,  all  would  be  noble.  As  to  the  motto  —  she 
loved  it.  It  meant  much  to  her,  as  it  had  to  the 
men  and  women  of  the  race  for  centuries.  In 
the  family  annals  were  brave  tales  how  they  had 
died  for  the  indefinable  spirit  of  their  noblesse 
oblige. 

Many  such  thoughts  flitted  through  her  mind. 
Yet,  what  should  she  say  to  Franzl  ?  How  could 
the  baroness  accentuate  her  privileges  before  this 
child  destitute  of  all  of  them  ?  How  could  she, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  177 

under  his  trustful,  unfaltering  gaze,  expatiate  upon 
worldly  distinctions,  and  the  dignity  and  virtues  of 
hereditary  nobility?  It  would  be  insolence  and 
fatuity. 

Suddenly  a  lovely  smile  from  her  very  heart 
played  over  her  face.  Of  what,  then,  was  this  child 
destitute  ?  What  had  his  brave  soul  prompted  but 
yesterday?  What  did  she  prize  in  the  whole  an- 
cestral vista,  if  not  the  resolute  spirit,  the  loyal 
heart,  the  clear  brain?  How  was  any  of  them 
nobler  than  this  poor  little,  untaught  boy  ?  Out 
of  his  beautiful  ardent  eyes,  his  spirit  pleaded  for 
enlightenment,  for  truth.  Without  traditions,  or 
motto,  or  race,  or  rank,  or  any  moral  aid  in  his 
surroundings,  he  had  done  the  high-hearted  deed 
which  made  the  milk-boy  brevet  chevalier.  A 
long-dead  Normann  was  promoted  for  extraordi- 
nary bravery  on  the  field  of  battle.  Wounded  and 
against  heavy  odds,  he  saved  the  life  of  his  friend. 
He  did  not  reason  or  know  why.  Nor  did  Franzl. 
And  they  were  equal  —  brothers  in  soul-rank ; 
what  other  nobility  was  worth  anything,  or  had 
any  right  to  exist  ? 

"Ah,  Franzl,"  she  said,  her  voice  sweet  and 
moved :  "  noblesse  oblige  means  different  things  at 
different  times,  but  always  that  the  more  one  has, 


178  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

the  more  one  must  give — that  one  has  not  one's 
gifts  for  one's  self.  Sometimes  it  means  one  must 
give  love,  sometimes  courtesy,  or  silence,  or 
speech,  or  work,  or  forgiveness,  or  patience,  or 
strength — it  is  often  indeed  the  thing  that  is 
hardest  to  give — but  whatever  it  may  be,  one  gives 
because  one  must,  since  one  has  received  so  large 
gifts  one's  self.  And  the  most  precious  thing  a 
man  can  give  is  his  life,  and  that  is  what  you 
were  ready  to  give  yesterday,  because  noblesse  oblige 
was  in  your  heart,  although  you  did  not  know  or 
think.  You  had  more  courage,  more  strength, 
more  skill,  more  brain  than  the  others — that  is 
why  you  gave  of  them  all.  You  were  pitiful  and 
generous,  that  is  why  you  could  not  see  Kurt 
drown  before  your  eyes  without  risking  your  life 
to  save  him.  And  now  you  know  what  noblesse 
oblige  means,  Franzl." 

Once  more  came  his  long-drawn,  satisfied  sigh. 
He  had  gradually  pressed  against  her  knee,  was  in 
her  face  and  eyes,  and  almost  down  her  throat.  He 
was  far  from  clean,  and  smelled  of  stables  and  bu- 
colic things  generally ;  but  Doris  loved  him  and 
thought  him  beautiful  with  the  unfathomable  clear- 
ness of  his  gaze,  and  now  and  then  a  flashing 
glance  that  startled  her,  it  was  so  keen  and  domi- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  179 

nant,  so  out  of  place  on  the  roundness  of  his  pretty 
brown  face. 

"  It's  more  comfortable  when  you  know  things. 
I  like  it  awfully — your  talk.  But,"  he  added,  with 
a  little  explanatory  air,  a  touch  of  masculine  su- 
periority and  knowledge  of  facts — "  I  didn't  do  all 
those  things  you  said.  I  didn't  blessbleege  a 
minute.  There  isn't  any  time,  when  a  fellow  is 
under  water.  I  only  went  for  him.  You  would 
yourself,  if  you'd  seen  him  go  down  and  not  seen 
him  come  up  again." 


XL 


"  You  leave  the  boy  to  me,"  said  the  major,  ora- 
cularly. 

"  But,  papa,"  complained  Hildegard,  "  between 
you  and  Doris  I  shan't  have  him  at  all.  The  other 
day  she  kept  him  so  long,  I  really  almost  listened 
at  the  key-hole." 

Kurt  laughed  derisively. 

"Almost!  I  say!  If  'almost'  means  being 
doubled  up  with  your  ear  so  close  I  could  have 
shot  a  pea  straight  into  it  from  the  other  side  of 
the  door,  then  I  don't  know  what  '  quite '  means." 

"  Be  quiet,  children,"  said  Doris.  "  Kurt,  don't 
tease." 

"  You  leave  that  boy  to  me,"  repeated  the  major, 
ignoring  the  intermezzo,  and  nodding  his  head 
with  decision  and  benevolent  intentions. 

"  I  think,"  Frau  von  Normann  remarked,  "  that 
the  kindest  thing  we  can  do  is  to  let  him  play  with 
Kurt  now  and  then,  on  a  Saturday  afternoon.  It 
will  be  a  refining  influence,  and — 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  181 

At  this  moment  Hildegard,  incited  by  one  of  her 
brother's  most  satanic  facial  contortions,  choked 
violently  and  had  to  be  sent  from  the  table. 

"  Isn't  she  very  noisy  ?  "  the  major  asked,  with  a 
helpless  expression.  "  It  seems  to  me  she's  always 
doing  something." 

"  I  made  her  laugh,  papa.  She  goes  off  with  a 
look,  you  know." 

"  If  you  call  that  fiendish  thing  a  look,  Kurt," 
Doris  said,  in  an  undertone. 

"  Don't  lecture  him,  Doris,  remember  he's  not 
yet  fully  recovered,"  urged  his  mamma.  "  Kurt, 
darling,  you'd  better  go.  You'll  be  late  at  your 
drawing." 

"  It  is  a  great  responsibility,"  the  major  went  on, 
"  our  conduct  to  that  boy.  The  fact  that  we  like 
him  personally  does  not  simplify  matters,  it  com- 
plicates them.  It  increases  the  danger  of  spoiling 
him.  He  is  a  bright,  handsome,  manly  little  fellow. 
I  grant  that  he  has  become  a  part  of  us,  of  our 
thoughts  and  conscience,  of  our  lives,  and  that  we 
can  never  to  the  end  of  our  days  fail  to  consider 
his  interests.  Precisely  for  these  reasons,  I  say 
leave  him  to  me.  Unless  you  want  to  ruin  his 
future,  want  to  make  him  a  discontented,  miserable 
hobbledehoy,  neither  honest  peasant  nor  honest 


182  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

anything  else,  don't  flatter  him,  don't  rouse  long- 
ings for  the  impossible  in  him,  don't  weaken  and 
confuse  him,  leave  him  where  he  is  and  where  he 
belongs.  Trust  me  a  little  in  this  matter,  Doris. 
I've  seen  enough  misery  made  by  injudicious  be- 
nevolence. Your  sentiment  and  theories  get  the 
better  of  your  judgment.  I  tell  you  simply  I  am 
Franzl's  friend." 

"  He  couldn't  have  a  better  friend  on  earth," 
Doris  rejoined,  affectionately.  "  Only,  papa,  I 
really  don't  think  you  or  anybody  else  can  stop 
him." 

"  Stop  him  ?  Stop  him  ?  Pray,  who  wants  to 
stop  him  ?  " 

"I  am  sure,  Doris,  your  papa  intends  to  do 
everything  for  him  in  the  most  generous  way,  and 
in  whichever  direction  he  manifests  taste  and  abil- 
ity. Nothing  could  be  kinder  or  wiser  than  your 
papa's  plans." 

"  But  I  do  not  propose  to  go  so  fast  that  the 
boy's  head  will  be  turned." 

"  If  I  could  show  you  how  he  felt  that  day,  papa. 
He  was  quite  at  his  ease,  I  am  sure,  yet  he  only 
wanted  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  things.  I  told 
you,  but — 

"  But  you  and  I  don't  regard  it  in  the  same 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  183 

light,  ray  dear.  I  presume  it  was  like  fortune-tell- 
ing— a  kind  of  reflex  action.  I  have  always  found 
that  when  clairvoyants,  chiromancers,  and  all  other 
old  witches  tell  silly  people  marvellous  things,  the 
data  have  been  skilfully  extracted  from  the  prey." 

He  laughed  indulgently. 

"  No,  papa,  I  suggested  nothing.  It  was  all  his 
own  self — his  initiative  ;  and  he  cared — I  cannot 
tell  you  how  intensely  he  cared.  He  was  passion- 
ately eager." 

"  My  dear  child  !  When  was  a  bright  boy  not 
curious?  Curiosity  is  a  dominant  characteristic 
of  childhood.  I  see  nothing  phenomenal  in  him. 
I  observe  with  pleasure  that  he  has  exceptional 
simplicity  and  sturdiness.  It  is  a  healthy  sign, 
and  I  like  his  want  of  greed,  his  all-pervading  con- 
tent." 

"  Oh,  papa,  papa !  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  that  is  it.  A  child  who  cannot 
be  induced  to  mention  one  single  thing  that  he 
wants,  who  evidently  wants  nothing,  is  contented. 
Diogenes  in  his  tub  couldn't  surpass  him.  And  I 
say  roundly,  whoever  makes  him  discontented  does 
him  unspeakable  harm.  Whoever  wisely  aids  him, 
not  dragging  him  out  of  his  own  station,  but  help- 
ing him  to  become  a  good  peasant-farmer,  a  good 


184  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT. 

master-workman,  a  good  corporal,  if  you  will,  is 
his  friend." 

"  How  dare  one  say  to  any  human  spirit,  '  Thus 
far  and  no  farther  ? ' "  murmured  the  girl,  thought- 
fully. 

"  I  have  said  nothing  of  the  kind,"  returned  the 
major,  dryly.  "  I've  made  no  remarks  whatever 
to  Franzl's  spirit.  I  am  merely  regarding  the 
matter  from  a  sober  and  practical  point  of  view. 
The  problem  is :  how  shall  AVO  best  help  a  healthy, 
hearty  milk-boy  to  become  an  honest  and  happy 
man  ?  " 

"  A  milk-boy  who  has  proved  himself  a  hero !  " 

"  Precisely.  Why  not  ?  Are  there  not  heroes 
in  the  ranks  ?  But  personal  bravery  is  not  suffi- 
cient cause  to  make  a  field-marshal  out  of  a  pri- 
vate. There  must  be  privates,  and  small  farmers, 
and  day-laborers,  and  all  parts  of  the  social 
machine.  Brave  ?  Of  course  they  are  brave.  Do 
I  underrate  them  ?  The  braver  they  are  the  bet- 
ter for  the  nation,  which  needs  true  men  in  all 
classes.  But  it  will  be  cruelty,  not  kindness,  to 
make  that  boy  something  for  which  he  was  not 
meant.  What  is  success,  at  best,  for  any  of  us  ? 
The  sum  total  of  a  series  of  well-concealed  fail- 
ures. There's  scarcely  an  ambitious  man  that 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  185 

doesn't  have  to  acknowledge  to  himself,  after  a  life- 
time of  striving,  that  the  game  wasn't  worth  the 
candle.  You  leave  that  boy  to  me.  He  shall 
struggle  with  tools  or  the  stubborn  earth  as  he 
will,  but  not  with  ideas  if  I  can  help  it.  Ideas 
are  fatal  to  a  man  such  as  he  will  be.  They'll 
make  a  vulgar  agitator  of  him.  Don't  rouse  his 
ambition,  which  would  be  in  his  case  but  another 
name  for  vanity.  Let  him  remain  simple  and  un- 
spoiled. Don't  modernize  him.  Don't  pervert 
him.  I  mean  well  by  the  boy.  I  know  what  I'm 
talking  about." 

"  It  is  the  old  question,  papa,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  We  have  discussed  it  so  many  times." 

"  Yes,  in  general.  Never  before  with  a  boy's 
future  in  the  scales." 

"  Of  course,  Doris,  you  will  agree  to  think  as 
your  papa  does." 

Doris  laughed,  went  over  to  her  father,  stood 
behind  his  chair,  and  kissed  the  middle  of  his 
bald  spot. 

"  Papa  and  I  understand  each  other  very  well." 
She  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  her  chin  on  the 
top  of  his  head. 

"That  may  be,"  he  grumbled,  "but  if  my 
squadron  were  as  badly  drilled  and  insubordinate 


186  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

as  my  home  regiment,  I  should  be  cashiered. 
Will  you  or  will  you  not  leave  that  boy  to  me, 
Doris  ?  Come  around  where  I  can  see  you." 

"  May  I  answer  his  questions  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  the  least  objection.  It  is  not  his 
head  I  fear,  it  is  yours." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  You  may  go  out  to  the  farm,  have  him  here, 
make  him  feel  free  and  comfortable  with  us  all. 
The  more  strongly  he  believes  we  are  his  friends, 
the  better  I  shall  like  it.  I  simply  beg  you  to  re- 
frain from  any  attempt  to  change  the  current  of 
his  ideas." 

"Oh!" 

"  Am  I  to  interpret  your  '  Ohs ! '  and  '  Ahs  ! ' 
and  wise  prophetic  looks,  and  amused  eyes  and 
little  impertinent  smiles  as  assent  to  my  request  ?  " 

"  I  agree  to  refrain  from  any  conscious  attempt 
to  change  the  current  of  Franzl's  ideas.  Mean- 
while I  understand  that  I  am  permitted  to  answer 
any  questions  that  he  may  ask  me,"  she  said,  de- 
murely. 

"Conscious  attempt?  What  does  that  mean, 
slyboots  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  I  am  very  high-principled  and 
punctilious  in  making  my  contract  with  you.  If 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  187 

Franzl  demands  explanations  of  me,  how  can  I  an- 
swer for  ideas  which  my  words  may  suggest  ?  " 

He  laughed  good-hum  oredly. 

"  Be  tranquil  upon  that  point.  The  boy's  imag- 
ination is  not  so  inflammable  as  you  think." 

"  May  I  give  him  books  ?  For  instance, '  Greek 
Heroes,'  which  he  has  at  present  ?  " 

"  Oh,  fairy  tales  won't  turn  him  into  an  anar- 
chist." 

"  That's  your  risk.  Then  it's  a  bargain.  But 
for  how  long  ?  " 

"What ?     Must  I  set  limits  to  my  experiment?  " 

"I  should  think  it  would  be  fair.  Because, 
papa,  when  you  admit  that  you  have  failed,  then  it 
is  my  turn,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  good.     When  I  admit  that." 

"  Does  a  man  ever  admit  that  he  has  made  a 
mistake,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  dear.  When  we  make  mistakes 
they  explain  them  to  us.  When  they  make  mis- 
takes, we  are  expected  to  ignore." 

"  Come,  come,  111  promise  to  be  honest.  But 
you'll  have  to  wait  some  time  for  my  recantation," 
he  added  with  a  chuckle. 

"  Your  papa  is  right  about  the  boy,  Doris.  It 
would  be  disastrous  should  you  interfere." 


188  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  But  I  have  promised  not  to  interfere,  mamma. 
I  shall  merely  wait." 

"  Papa,"  began  Hildegard,  who  had  stolen  into 
the  room,  ashamed  of  her  explosive  exit,  "  every- 
body is  talking  about  Franzl  and  nobody  lets  me 
speak,  and  I've  thought  of  something  perfectly 
splendid." 

"That's  right,  my  darling.  Out  with  your 
scheme.  I  don't  doubt  it's  better  than  your  sis- 
ter's. It  is  evident  that  we,  one  and  all,  wish  to 
pilot  Franzl.  Now,  what's  your  idea,  Hilde- 
gard?" 

"  Franzl  won't  say  what  he  wants,  you  know ; 
and  you  are  going  to  the  manosuvre,  you  know  ; 
and  when  you  come  home  it  will  be  almost  Christ- 
mas, you  know ;  and  if  you  would  let  him  have 
three  wishes  for  Christmas,  you  know,  he  would 
have  time  to  think,  you  know ;  and  everybody 
wants  something  at  Christmas,  you  know,  and  that 
would  be  splendid — 

"  You  know ! "  concluded  the  major,  putting  his 
arm  around  her.  "  That  sounds  like  the  legitimate 
drama,  Hildegard.  You  want  me  to  play  fairy- 
godmother,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  tell  him  what  he  wants." 

"Child,   child,  you  too!     That's  exactly  what 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  189 

you'll  not  do.  How  you  all  want  to  unfranzl 
Franzl !  Even  this  baby  is  a  woman  at  heart,  and 
intends  to  lead  him  a  pretty  dance.  But  if  you'll 
not  tell  him  what  to  wish,  I  have  nothing  against 
your  little  comedy.  I  should  greatly  like  to  give 
him  a  pleasure,  and  as  you  say,  he'll  surely  have 
Christmas  wishes." 

"  Then  may  I  tell  him,  myself  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  perhaps  you'll  succeed  better  than 
Doris  or  I.  If  his  wishes  are  reasonable  and  in 
my  power,  he  shall  have  them.  I  wouldn't  dare 
say  as  much  to  you  or  that  rascal  Kurt,  but 
Franzl's  views  are  more  modest." 

"  Is  it  a  promise,  papa  ?  " 

"  It's  a  promise,  my  darling." 

"  You  hear,  mamma  !  You  hear,  Doris  !  It  is  a 
promise  and  it's  my  own  thought,  and  I  may  tell 
Franzl,  myself." 

"But  not  a  hint,  remember,  otherwise  I  won't 
play.  I'll  refuse  to  be  godmother." 

"  No,  indeed,  papa.  I  wouldn't  spoil  the  fun  for 
anything." 

"  Mind,  you  are  not  even  to  question  him  be- 
forehand." 

"  Of  course  not.     I'm  not  half  so  silly  as  I  act." 

"  That's  very  encouraging,  I'm  sure,  my  dear.    It 


190  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

would  be  well  for  many  people  if  they  could  say 
the  same.  Christian  Lutz,  for  instance,  although 
'silly'  might  not  be  my  choice  of  words  to  express 
his  animus.  I  saw  him  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  papa,  why  didn't  you  say  so  before  ? " 
Doris  exclaimed. 

"  I  wanted  to  plan  the  campaign  first  and  crush 
incipient  rebellion." 

"  They  crush  best  who  crush  last,"  she  retorted. 

"  Isn't  that  silly  too,  papa  ?  "  demanded  Hilde- 
gard,  gravely. 

"  Undoubtedly.  It  is  always  silly  to  be  saucy 
to  one's  papa.  Lutz  is  a  donkey  and  incapable 
of  seeing  beyond  his  own  pasture !  He  evidently 
didn't  want  to  talk  with  me  at  all,  but  I  plainly  in- 
timated I  didn't  propose  to  ride  up  to  Waldheiin 
for  nothing.  I  dismounted  and  kept  one  of  his 
men  walking  my  horse  up  and  down,  and  Lutz 
finally  consented  to  listen  to  me,  because  he  saw  I 
meant  to  stay  until  he  did.  He  wants  the  boy." 

"Everybody  wants  Franzl!"  cried  Hildegard, 
jubilant. 

"  I  made  no  suggestion  to  shorten  the  boy's  tune 
with  him.  Franzl  himself,  with  very  proper  feeling, 
declined  that,  and  aside  from  the  fact  that  he  ought 
to  keep  his  word,  I  don't  want  any  sudden  trans- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  191 

planting  of  him.  He  must  continue  to  take  him- 
self simply,  and  everything  we  do  must  be  sober, 
practical,  and  well  considered." 

"  Do  you  know  sometimes  I  detest  the  sober 
and  practical,"  Doris  remarked,  with  a  little  shrug, 
"and  I  don't  think  it  is  always  very  intelligent 
either." 

"  It  is  clever  enough  for  an  old-fashioned  man 
like  me,  my  dear.  Lutz  would  agree  to  nothing.  I 
told  him  how  strong  an  interest  we  feel  in  Franzl, 
and  what  he  had  done  for  us.  Lutz  looked  gloomy 
and  said  it  was  bad  for  the  boy.  There  is  no 
doubt  he  regards  it  as  a  personal  misfortune  that 
Kurt  didn't  drown." 

"  The  wretch  ! "  exclaimed  Frau  von  Normann. 

"  I  suggested  gradually  lightening  Franzl's  work, 
and  proposed  an  indemnity.  Lutz  declined,  flatly 
declaring  nobody  in  his  employ  was  ill-fed  or 
badly  used,  and  Franzl's  work  was  his  affair.  He 
evidently  wanted  no  interference." 

"Peculiar,  wasn't  it,  papa?" 

"  I  told  him  I  had  plans  for  Franzl  when  his 
time  was  out.  Lntz  retorted  so  had  he,  and  as  he 
had  taken  the  trouble  and  expense  of  bringing  the 
boy  up  from  Ravensburg  he  had  the  first  claim.  I 
assure  you  I  was  tolerably  curt  with  the  stubborn 


192  A  BA1TLE  AND  A  BOY. 

old  fool.  He  is  selfish  as  sin,  and  hard  as  the 
nether  millstone.  He  intends  to  do  with  that  boy 
precisely  as  he  thinks  best,  without  regard  for  any 
more  enlightened  opinion." 

The  major  was  so  absorbed  in  his  narrative  that 
he  failed  to  observe  his  daughter's  eyes  and  smile. 

"  School  is  in  the  bond.  Franzl  is  to  go  in  No- 
vember. Lutz  cannot  help  that,  but  he  would  if 
he  could.  Still  he  is  what  they  call  a  strictly 
moral  man,  and  he  will  keep  his  word.  That  sen- 
sible little  Leni  came  out  and  spoke  up  like  a 
man,  and  we  together,  by  appealing  to  his  cupidity, 
obtained  one  concession.  Franzl  may  go  to  the 
Knabenhort  every  day,  that  is,  to  school  in  the 
afternoon  and  then  to  the  Hort  from  four  to  seven. 
Leni  urged  that  those  last  hours  of  the  winter 
days  could  easily  be  spared,  and  I  pay  well  for 
each  hour.  Fancy  the  heathen  darkness  of  a  man 
in  this  age  of  the  world,  who  if  he  could,  would 
prevent  a  boy  from  going  to  school,  and  condemn 
him  to  a  life  not  far  removed  from  that  of  the  cat- 
tle he  tends." 

"  It  is  incredible,  papa ! "  Doris  said,  soberly. 

"  It  is  shameful,  it  is  barbarous,"  returned  the 
good  major,  with  righteous  indignation.  "  I  do 
not  know  if  Franzl  is  really  valuable  to  him,  or 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  193 

whether  the  boy's  worth  increases  in  proportion  as 
we  show  interest  in  him.  But  one  thing  is  certain. 
Old  Lutz  is  bound  to  be  as  disobliging  and  churl- 
ish as  possible,  and  will  do  his  best  to  keep  the 
child  in  his  clutches  after  March.  However,  I'm 
content  with  the  results  of  my  first  mission. 
Franzl  will  go  to  the  Hort,  and  it  will  be  an  excel- 
lent thing  for  him.  If  there  is  a  charity  that  is 
wise,  healthful,  doing  good  and  harming  no  one,  it 
is  this.  There  he  will  have  a  few  hours  every  day 
in  a  comfortable  place,  where  he'll  get  something 
to  eat,  learn  his  lessons,  then  read  or  draw  or  carve 
wood,  or  play  games,  or  do  anything  he  likes. 
And  all  the  time,  mind  you,  he  won't  be  getting 
notions  into  his  head.  Boys  of  his  own  class, 
promising  boys  too,  are  his  companions.  At  four- 
teen they  begin  to  learn  a  trade.  They  will  know 
enough  and  not  too  much.  That's  where  Franzl 
belongs,  among  his  peers." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  papa.  You  cannot  please  me 
more  than  by  sending  him  to  the  Hort — for  the 
present." 

"  I  think,"  said  Frau  von  Normann,  "  if  you  two 
are  going  to  discuss  these  things  for  an  indefinite 
time,  Hildegard  and  I  will  go  to  drive  and  call  for 
Kurt.  The  dear  boy  ought  not  to  walk  too  much 


194  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

to-day.  I  may  make  a  few  visits  too ;  I  should  like 
to  hear  some  interesting  conversation,"  she  added, 
with  a  slight  laugh.  "  I  am  sure  I  approve  of 
philanthropy  as  much  as  anyone,  but  it  does  get 
very  dull,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  I  have  lis- 
tened patiently  to  the  chapters  upon  Franzl  and 
Lutz,  but  if  you  are  now  going  to  discuss  the 
Hort,  I'd  better  retire.  Why  do  you  never  talk  of 
people  we  know?  Aren't  our  acquaintances  fel- 
low-creatures too?  Why  always  these  'sons  of 
the  soil?'" 

"If  you  make  visits  this  afternoon,  my  dear,"  the 
major  replied,  smiling  and  lighting  a  cigar,  "you 
will  come  home  with  the  most  interesting  hautes 
nouveautes,  and  then  it  will  be  our  turn  to  listen." 

"I  am  flattered  that  you  approve  my  course, 
Doris,"  he  resumed.  "It  is  the  best  place  for  him. 
It  keeps  the  boys  out  of  mischief.  It  is  human- 
izing, educating,  comforting,  and — 

"  Conservative,  I  suppose  you  think,"  she  added, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  I  trust  so,"  he  returned,  devoutly.  "  The 
director  impressed  me  as  a  sensible  man.  I  heard 
none  of  your  scatter-brained  ideas  down  there.  I 
even  went  so  far  as  to  ask  if  they  ever  advance  a 
particularly  bright  boy  to  a  higher  school,  and  I 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  195 

was  informed — to  my  immense  satisfaction,  my 
dear  little  revolutionist — that  they  had  invariably 
found  such  a  step  a  misfortune  for  the  boy." 

Doris  laughed  merrily. 

"  Oh,  I  can  hear  that  benevolent  old  owl  answer- 
ing you.  '  Certain  social  prejudices,  crystallized 
— as  it  were — the  solidarity  of  existing  relation- 
ships— one  might  say— the  prevailing  local  ten- 
dencies and  inherent  idiosyncrasies — so  to  speak 
— combine  to  render  it  inexpedient  to  distinguish 
one  boy  beyond  his  mates — as  it  were — or  make 
him,  as  one  might  say — conspicuous.'  " 

"Witch!" 

"  That's  what  he  told  you,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"Approximately — yes,  and  very  good  sense  I 
thought  it." 

"Very  good  polysyllabic  words,  good  mouth- 
fuls ! " 

"  Perhaps  you'll  like  him  better  when  I  tell  you 
that  he  knows  every  boy  in  the  Hort,  every  face, 
every  family.  To  know  nearly  a  thousand  boys 
individually  requires  special  talent.  Each  even- 
ing he  visits  one  branch,  on  some  days  two.  He 
is  devoted  to  the  boys,  and  he  declares  although 
they  are  from  the  very  dregs  of  the  people, 
coarse  enough,  unmannerly  and  rough,  he  has  not 


196  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

yet  found  one  irreclaimably  vicious  nature,  not  in 
the  four  years  in  which  this  thing  has  been  in  ex- 
istence. He  does  not  know  among  the  hardest 
cases  one  out-and-out  bad  fellow." 

"I  do  like  him.  I  think  he  is  goodness  itself 
to  give  so  much  time  and  affection  to  the  boys. 
He  is  always  lovely,  and  it's  only  in  certain  lights 
that  he  is  a  lovely  old  fossil !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  him  so  well  ?  " 

"  I  heard  him  talk  to  the  boys  of  the  St.  John 
Hort,  when  I  went  down  to  give  them  season 
tickets  to  the  swimming  school.  Then  Herr  Theo- 
bald has  spoken  of  him." 

"  Ah !  The  director  said  Theobald  came  often 
and  was  in  high  favor  with  the  boys.  He  can  do 
anything  he  likes  with  them." 

"  Yes,  he  is  kind,"  Doris  said,  coloring  slightly. 

"  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  he  has  been  kind 
to  me."  The  major  looked  keenly  at  her.  "  I 
presume  I  have  to  thank  him  for  a  good  part  of 
your  philosophy." 

"  I  think  not,"  she  replied,  gravely.  "  He  made 
some  things  clearer  to  me,  but  he  did  not  set  me 
thinking." 

"  Who  did,  then  ?  " 

"You,  papa." 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  197 

"  I?  I  was  that  scoundrel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you,"  she  repeated,  softly.  "  You  are  so 
sure,  so  very  sure  how  everything  ought  to  be, 
what  people  ought  to  believe  in  religion,  how  so- 
ciety should  conduct  itself,  how  the  poor  should 
feel  and  act,  that  at  first  I  began  to  ask  how  does 
he  know,  and  then  to  wonder,  and  then  to  doubt, 
and  then  sometimes  to  think  the  contrary." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  a  dogmatic  old  fool  ?  " 
he  asked,  in  honest  bewilderment. 

"No,  papa,  you  are  a  darling,"  Doris  replied, 
with  considerable  emotion  in  her  low,  loving  voice. 
"  You  are  the  dearest,  best  man  in  the  world,  and 
nothing  and  nobody  shall  ever  come  between  us, 
you  may  be  sure  of  that.  We  may  think  differ- 
ently sometimes.  That's  no  matter.  Thinking 
isn't  loving.  We  don't  love  differently ;  we  love 
alike  and  I  love  you  dearly,  and  if  I  cannot  always 
do  all  that  you  expect  of  me,  at  least,  I  will  never 
do  anything  against  your  wish,  no,  not  on  any  ac- 
count, no,  not  for  anybody — ever — ever — ever !  " 

As  she  leaned  over  him,  he  saw  her  eyes  were 
wet.  She  stroked  his  cheek  in  her  caressing  fash- 
ion, kissed  him  warmly,  and  left  the  room. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  "  said  the  major,  staring  blank- 
ly at  the  door  which  she  had  closed  behind  her. 


xn. 

ONE  November  afternoon,  Franzl,  with  the  air  of 
an  infuriated  bandit,  walked  into  the  St.  John 
Knabenhort.  As  in  this  particular  assembly  of 
youths,  a  stormy  brow  and  glaring  eyes  were  the 
rule  and  not  the  exception  for  new-comers,  his 
tragic  manner  caused  no  panic.  The  master,  hav- 
ing successfully  tamed  many  a  fiercer  desperado, 
had  no  misgivings  as  he  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 

He  had  come  most  reluctantly.  At  the  very 
door,  indeed,  he  had  seriously  meditated  flight,  but 
as  he  had  let  himself  be  persuaded  by  Fraulein 
Doris  and  Leni  and  Herr  Arno  Theobald,  and  even 
the  major  in  full  uniform,  to  at  least  go  and  see 
what  a  Hort  was,  he  decided  he  might  as  well  face 
the  thing  itself  as  those  four  persons,  in  case  he 
should  run  away.  Still  he  did  wish  they  would 
let  a  fellow  alone.  With  his  heart  in  his  boots, 
feeling  queer  and  shy,  he  gave  a  tremendous 
knock  as  if  he  were  Thor  with  his  hammer,  and 
entered  the  cheerful  room,  dark  and  terrible  like  a 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  199 

pirate  chieftain,  or  a  Corsican  with  vendetta  in  his 
soul. 

It  was  bad  enough  to  have  to  go  to  school  with- 
out having  to  go  to  another  school  on  top  of  it. 
They  all  said  it  wasn't  a  school,  but  if  it  wasn't  a 
school,  then  what  sort  of  a  thing  was  it,  that's  what 
he'd  like  to  know,  and  that's  what  he  intended  to 
find  out.  Glowering  at  the  world  in  general,  his 
roving  glance  went  on  a  voyage  of  discovery. 

His  neighbor  on  the  right  was  a  pale,  fat, 
dough-faced  boy,  overgrown,  unhealthy,  big,  and 
young.  Franzl  nudged  him  tentatively.  The 
child  gave  him  a  stupid  stare  and  continued  to 
work  at  an  example  in  simple  addition  on  his  slate, 
where  he  persistently  based  his  calculations  upon 
the  original  hypothesis  that  five  and  three  are 
nine.  Franzl  not  finding  him  a  foeman  worthy  of 
his  steel,  peered  curiously  over  the  fat  shoulder. 
Spying  the  9,  he  dived  at  it  with  a  wet  and  ener- 
getic thumb,  making  a  fine  smooch  and  whispering 
"  Eight,  stupid,  eight ! "  Looking  up,  he  met  the 
quiet  smile  of  the  master. 

"That's  queer,"  reflected  Franzl.  "They  hit 
you  generally  for  less." 

He  now  turned  to  his  neighbor  on  the  left,  and 
inspected  him  as  if  learning  him  by  heart.  He 


200  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

was  a  child  with  a  hollow  breast,  claw-like  hands, 
and  so  big  a  head  that  Franzl  contemplated  it  on 
all  sides  with  frank  amazement. 

The  boy  turned  a  pair  of  brilliant  eyes  toward 
him  and  smiled  like  a  girl.  Franzl,  concluding 
not  to  nudge  him,  wondered  why  he  had  so  many 
veins.  He  was  reading  Schiller's  "  Robbers,"  and 
on  his  slate  were  some  algebra  examples  neatly 
done  and  wholly  unintelligible  to  his  inquisitive 
neighbor. 

As  the  Knabenhort  was  nearly  as  gossippy  as 
court  society,  it  was  not  many  days  before  Franzl 
knew  why  Artur  looked  so  ill  and  had  so  many 
veins,  and  that  he  was  the  cleverest  boy  in  the 
Hort,  and  had  hip  disease,  and  used  to  be  well 
enough  until  one  day,  when  his  drunken  mother 
desired  to  flog  him  with  the  end  of  a  rope,  he 
being  only  a  very  little  boy,  was  wild  with  fright, 
and  jumped  from  an  open  window  of  a  third  story. 
When  the  director  heard  of  him,  he  had  been  ly- 
ing six  weeks  on  his  back  in  bed,  with  his  legs 
broken,  and  every  day  and  all  day  he  was  alone 
staring  at  the  ceiling,  until  his  mother,  who  was 
not  always  intoxicated  and  who  was  very  fond  of 
him  in  her  sober  intervals,  came  home  from  her 
work  at  night.  The  director  brought  him  a  story- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  201 

book,  the  first  he  had  ever  had.  He  did  difficult 
mathematical  problems  for  amusement,  and  was 
far  beyond  his  age  and  school  in  all  his  lessons. 
An  inveterate  reader,  his  taste  in  literature  was 
exclusively  for  romantic  poetry  and  adventure. 
Whatever  was  wild,  exciting,  improbable,  replete 
with  action  and  life,  in  short  of  things  which  he 
could  never  do  and  scenes  most  removed  from  his 
mother's  poor  bare  room  and  all  that  he  knew  best, 
appealed  most  strongly  to  the  lame  boy. 

Of  many  boys  there,  tales  akin  to  Artur's  family 
history  could  be  told  and  were  well  known  to  the 
Director,  although  not  in  every  instance  of  al- 
coholic infelicity  had  an  open  window  presented 
itself  before  a  frightened  child,  or  hip  disease  ac- 
centuated the  catastrophe.  Some  boys,  too,  were 
less  excitable  than  Artur,  and  took  their  rope-ends 
and  other  parental  diversions  stolidly.  All  in  all, 
they  were  good-looking  boys.  Some  of  them  had 
the  pasty  color  produced  by  poor  food  and  bad 
air,  many  were  frail,  but  others  were  defiantly  rosy, 
and  their  straight  features  and  intelligent  heads 
would  not  have  been  amiss  in  more  distinguished 
families  than  those  which  produced  them.  Their 
costumes  were  rather  odd,  the  little  coats,  mostly 
philanthropic  offerings,  were  usually  too  big  or 


202  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

too  little,  inclined  to  conceal  hands,  or  to  expose 
over-much  bony  adolescent  wrists.  One  boy 
walked  proudly  about  in  a  long  dressing-gown 
buttoned  to  the  throat  to  conceal  the  paucity  of 
undergarments  ;  cuffs  were  not  the  fashion  at  the 
Hort,  but  there  was  an  evident  struggle  toward 
the  collar-ideal. 

The  room  was  warm,  brilliantly  lighted,  a  case- 
ment was  open,  Franzl  observed  with  satisfaction, 
as  he  hated  to  be  cooped  up  and  had  longed  to 
break  a  window-pane  in  the  school-room  that  after- 
noon. Now  and  then  somebody,  after  speaking  to 
the  master,  went  into  the  next  room.  Most  of  the 
fellows  had  closed  their  school-books  and  put  down 
their  slates,  but  Doughface,  patient  and  content, 
was  still  cogitating  upon  the  conflicting  theories 
regarding  five  and  three.  Franzl  wondered  what 
they  were  doing  in  the  next  room.  The  door  was 
open.  It  looked  bright  in  there  and  he  heard 
voices.  They  spoke  here,  too,  without  reproof 
from  the  master.  Occasionally  a  little  giggle  bub- 
bled up  for  an  instant.  Franzl  had  studied  the 
walls  from  ceiling  to  floor,  all  the  pictures  and  all 
the  pegs,  had  discovered  the  boy  that  giggled,  had 
counted  the  gas-flames,  the  boys'  noses,  and  was 
beginning,  with  a  friendly  and  interested  expres- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  203 

sion  to  count  Artur's  veins,  peering  for  this  pur- 
pose close  in  his  face,  when  a  voice  said  kindly  to 
Doughface  : 

"You'll  get  it,  Hans.  You  have  time  enough. 
Remember  you  got  one  out  all  alone  last  week." 
"  5  +  3  =  8,"  he  wrote  across  the  top  of  the  slate. 

Franzl,  no  more  given  to  self-reproach  than  a 
bear's  cub,  could  not  help  observing  that  the  mas- 
ter did  not  call  Hans  stupid. 

"Artur,  come  to  me  when  you  have  finished 
that.  I  have  a  fine  book  for  you  and  a  puzzle.  If 
you  get  it  out  you  will  do  more  than  I  can."  In  an 
undertone  which  Franzl  heard,  however.  "  When 
you  are  tired,  go  into  the  office.  There  is  no  one 
there  and  you  can  rest  in  the  arm-chair.  I'm  going 
your  way  to-night.  Wait  for  me.  I  want  to  see 
your  mother." 

Artur  smiled  his  affectionate  lingering  smile, 
said  he  felt  very  well,  seemed  on  terms  of  easy 
companionship  with  the  young  man,  and  buried 
his  big  clever  head  in  his  book  again. 

"  Come  with  me,  Franzl,"  leading  the  way  to 
another  room.  "  Knock  at  that  window  and  ask 
the  matron  what  she  has  for  you.  You  are 
hungry,  of  course.  I  was  always  hungry  at  your 
age." 


204:  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

As  Franzl  was  accustomed  to  hear  Christian 
Lutz  assert  that  boys  ate  more  than  they  were 
worth,  that  one  boy  could  eat  an  honest  man  out 
of  house  and  home,  and  that  boys  were  as  bad  as 
ravening  wolves,  the  master's  tolerance  toward  the 
cravings  of  appetite  was  an  agreeable  surprise.  A 
thick  slice  of  rye  bread  and  butter,  and  a  glass  of 
milk  disappeared  rapidly  in  this  benevolent  atmos- 
phere. 

When  he  returned  he  was  asked  : 

"  Have  you  anything  to  learn  for  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No,  I  did  it  in  school.  The  sums  were  awful 
easy.  If  you  know  how  to  reckon  milk  in  your 
head,  you  know  how  to  do  harder  ones  every  day, 
and  the  teacher  read  the  Bible  verse  aloud,  so  I 
know  it." 

"  Then  you  may  do  what  you  like." 

"What  I  like?" 

"Certainly." 

"  May  I  go  home  if  I  want  to  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Or  if  you  like  to  stay,  you  may  read, 
may  go  in  my  room,  may  learn  to  draw  or  carve 
wood,  use  tools,  play  games,  or  exercise  in  the  gym- 
nasium. All  that  we  ask  is  that  you  don't  inter- 
fere with  other  people's  comfort.  In  my  room 
some  of  the  boys  are  studying  still,  so  that  those 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  205 

who  choose  to  read  are  expected  to  be  quiet.  But 
if  they  prefer  they  can  go  into  the  tool-room,  where 
it  is  rather  lively,  and  in  the  gymnasium  they  can 
shout  to  their  heart's  content." 

"  There  isn't  any  school  about  here  anywhere  ?  " 
asked  Franzl,  a  trifle  suspicious. 

-No." 

"  Haven't  you  got  a  ferule  ?  " 

"  There  isn't  one  in  the  whole  building." 

"  What  do  you  do  when  a  fellow  cuts  up  ?  " 

"Nothing.  We  have  very  little  cutting  up. 
Why  should  a  fellow  cut  up  when  he's  happy  and 
amused." 

"What  would  you  do  if  a  fellow  wouldn't  learn 
his  school-lessons  here  ?  " 

"Nothing.  That  would  entirely  concern  his 
teacher.  We  give  every  boy  the  chance  to  study 
comfortably,  but  we  don't  compel  him  to  learn. 
Still  he'd  be  foolish  if  he  didn't,  wouldn't  he  ?  The 
truth  is,  the  boys  do  their  lessons  first  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  they  know  them  better  since  they've 
had  the  Hort." 

"  Wasn't  there  ever  a  fellow  who  wouldn't  study 
here  ?  "  persisted  Franzl. 

"  Oh,  yes,  several.  One  went  into  the  gymna- 
sium every  evening  for  two  weeks,  and  would  not 


206  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

so  much  as  look  into  the  other  rooms,  but  after 
that  he  fell  into  the  ranks." 

"  What  would  you  have  done  if  he  hadn't  ?  " 

"  We  should  have  let  him  dangle  on  the  parallel 
bars  till  this  day." 

Franzl  laughed,  much  encouraged. 

"  The  boys  know  that  we  try  to  make  things 
pleasant  for  them.  It  is  natural  they  should 
be  willing  to  please  us,  isn't  it  ?  It  would  be  a 
pretty  mean  fellow  that  would  take  all  he  could 
get  and  give  nothing  in  return,  wouldn't  it  ?  At 
all  events  I  have  never  found  him,  that  is,  after 
one  has  taken  the  trouble  to  explain  the  situa- 
tion." 

"  Do  you  like  boys  ?  "  asked  Franzl,  solemnly. 

"  Very  much." 

The  boy  contemplated  him  a  while  with  a  pene- 
trating gaze,  and  at  length  said : 

"  May  I  go  into  every  single  room  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Will  nobody  stop  me  ?  " 

"Certainly  not.  They  will  all  be  glad  to  see 
you.  If  you  want  to  know  anything,  ask  one  of 
the  ushers.  By  the  way,  Franzl,  I've  heard  a  great 
deal  of  you  from  some  of  your  friends,  and  I  re- 
member seeing  you  several  times  at  Herr  Theo- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  207 

bald's.  I  placed  you  between  Hans  and  Artur 
because  I  knew  you  to  be  a  kind  boy." 

Franzl's  bold  air  vanished.  He  shuffled,  in  con- 
siderable embarrassment. 

"  They  are  both  ill  in  very  different  ways." 

"  Doughface  too  ?  "  Franzl  asked,  hastily. 

"  Yes,  Hans  too.  They  have  been  unfortunate, 
but  they  are  happy  now.  They  like  the  Hort. 
Artur  is  our  best  singer.  You  will  hear  him  at 
six.  Hans  is  timid  and  a  little  slow.  The  boys 
like  to  tease  him,  and  Artur  is  so  small  and  deli- 
cate they  jostle  and  hurt  him  unintentionally, 
when  they  go  scuffling  through  the  corridors. 
You  look  after  them  both  a  little,  will  you  ?  I 
like  to  keep  Artur  till  the  last  and  take  him  home, 
when  I  can." 

"All  right,"  Franzl  agreed,  cheerfully.  "I'll 
knock  any  fellow  down  that  touches  them." 

"  Not  immediately,  please,"  Herr  Heinrich  re- 
turned, smiling,  "  and  certainly  not  for  an  accident ; 
but  I  give  you  leave  to  knock  any  boy  down  who 
intentionally  mocks  Artur's  lameness.  I  never 
saw  but  one  capable  of  such  cruelty,  and  I  think 
he  was  sorry  and  ashamed  after  I  showed  him 
what  he  had  done.  Now  good-by  for  the  present. 
Amuse  yourself.  Bemember  you  have  the  right 


208  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

to  go  everywhere.  It  all  belongs  to  you  if  you 
choose  to  belong  to  it.  You  are  welcome  in  every 
room.  Don't  be  afraid  it's  a  school.  It  is  more 
like  a  boy's  club." 

The  bread  and  butter  and  Herr  Heinrich's  affa- 
bility had  softened  Franzl's  aggressive  mood,  and 
he  was  secretly  flattered  to  have  two  boys  put  un- 
der his  protection.  Still,  in  spite  of  the  apparent 
harmlessness  of  his  surroundings,  his  previous  ex- 
perience of  the  relations  of  boys  and  men  set  over 
them  in  any  restraining  and  superior  position,  led 
him  to  suspect  an  inimical  element  lurking  in  am- 
bush, and  he  determined  to  thoroughly  explore 
the  land.  Taking  Herr  Heinrich  at  his  word  in 
the  most  matter-of-fact  sense,  Franzl  examined 
every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  room  in  which  he 
now  stood  alone.  Presently,  somewhat  to  the  sur- 
prise of  the  matron,  he  climbed  through  her  win- 
dow and  began  his  intelligent  survey  of  the 
kitchen.  With  a  few  trenchant  inquiries,  he  as- 
certained its  end  and  aim  ;  that  there  were  hun- 
dreds of  portions  of  warm  milk  and  bread  there 
every  morning  for  children  who  never  got  any- 
thing at  home  before  going  to  school ;  that  there 
was  soup  at  noon  and  night,  and  beef-tea  all  day 
for  invalids,  and  coffee  in  great  quantities  to  sup- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  209 

ply  the  carts  some  kind  people  were  sending 
about  the  streets  to  win  men  from  grog-shops. 
Franzl  did  not  wholly  understand  the  system 
which  she  explained,  but  he  received  agreeable 
impressions  of  the  matron  and  her  domain,  which 
he  left,  as  he  came,  through  the  window. 

His  hands  behind  him,  very  grave  and  method- 
ical, he  proceeded  on  his  tour  of  inspection,  pass- 
ing through  Herr  Heinrich's  room,  where  that 
young  gentleman  suppressed  a  smile  at  the  im- 
portance of  the  child's  demeanor. 

The  usher  in  the  second  room  was  also  amused 
at  the  vision  that  appeared  on  his  threshold,  and 
that  subjected  him  and  every  boy  and  book  to  a 
long,  calm  scrutiny  before  entering.  Some  of  the 
children  snickered,  but  Franzl  at  the  moment  was 
master  of  his  fate.  He  sauntered  about,  if  a  move- 
ment so  dignified  may  be  called  a  saunter,  ab- 
sorbed in  his  self-imposed  task  of  verifying  Herr 
Heinrich's  statements.  They  were  thus  far  accu- 
rate. Except  a  pleasant  good-evening,  the  ushers 
said  nothing  to  him.  The  boys  were  studying, 
reading,  drawing,  as  in  Herr  Heinrich's  room. 
There  were  shelves  of  books,  and  a  few  pictures 
here  and  there. 

The  next  room  was  devoted  exclusively  to  draw- 


210  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

ing,  and  the  boys  who  came  in  here  were  taught. 
If  they  preferred  to  draw  as  they  pleased,  and 
Egyptian  perspective  to  the  modern  kind,  they 
drew  elsewhere.  Franzl  scrutinized  master  and 
pupils,  plaster-casts  and  drawings,  with  his  im- 
pressive air  of  special  government-agent,  and  was 
moved  to  ask,  pointing  at  a  cast : 

"Who  is  that  man?" 

"  That  is  supposed  to  be  a  head  of  Achilles," 
the  master  responded,  politely. 

"I  know  him.     He's  in  my  book." 

"Do  you  think  you  could  draw  him?  " 

"Yes,"  Franzl  answered,  without  one  modest 
misgiving.  "  Perhaps  I'll  come  in  and  draw  him 
some  day,"  he  added,  affably,  knowing  no  reason 
why  he  couldn't  do  what  other  boys  could. 

"  I  should  be  happy  to  see  you,"  the  master  as- 
sured him. 

He  watched  the  boys  in  the  tool-room  some  time, 
and  was  persuaded  there  was  a  great  deal  here  that 
he  could  do  better  than  anybody  else.  In  the 
gymnasium  he  longed  to  show  those  fellows  his 
jump,  but  decided  to  postpone  his  triumph,  for  it 
pleased  his  fancy  to  regard  himself  as  a  critical 
outsider  at  first  and  not  to  commit  himself ;  be- 
sides, he  was  conscious  of  a  desire  to  see  what 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  211 

Artur  and  Hans  were  doing.  Satisfied  with  his 
investigations,  he  walked  back  to  Herr  Heinrich. 

"  It  isn't  a  school,"  Franzl  informed  him,  judi- 
cially. "  I  don't  mind  trying  it,  and  I'll  stay  in 
your  room."  He  returned  to  his  place. 

Hans,  after  being  many  times  helped  toward  a 
more  enlightened  belief,  had  reverted  to  his 
original  theory  that  5  and  3  are  9.  Franzl,  with  a 
fatherly  air,  seized  the  slate  and  rubbed  out  the 
entire  tottering  mathematical  structure. 

"  Here,  Doughface,"  he  said,  amiably,  "  you  just 
do  that  thing  right  now.  No  use  being  all  night 
about  it  either."  Hans,  with  his  simple  docile 
smile  began  anew,  his  awkward  fingers  and  dull 
brain  guided  by  his  well-meaning,  if  imperious, 
neighbor. 

Heinrich  left  them  to  their  own  devices.  He 
knew  that  Franzl  was  won  and  poor  little  Hans 
safe,  the  moment  the  generous,  resolute  boy  as- 
sumed protectorship. 


xin. 

WITH  an  open  book  before  him,  Heinrich  sat 
looking  at  the  little  fellows,  considering  them  in- 
dividually and  wondering  where  some,  in  whom  he 
could  mark  change  and  improvement  from  month 
to  month,  almost  from  day  to  day,  would  end. 
After  his  own  day's  work  was  done  he  spent  three 
hours  every  evening  with  the  Hort  boys,  and  they 
had  become  more  interesting  to  him  than  billiards 
or  the  club. 

He  had  appeared  on  this  new  field  indifferent, 
sceptical,  and  merely  for  a  few  weeks,  at  the  ur- 
gent prayer  of  his  cousin,  the  director,  who  could 
not  find  young  men  enough,  or  the  right  sort  of 
men,  to  interest  themselves  in  his  scheme. 

The  younger  teachers  of  the  gymnasium  and  all 
the  better  public  schools  were,  as  a  class,  busy  men 
on  small  pay,  who  eked  out  their  salaries  by  pri- 
vate lessons,  and  had  little  time  and  less  desire, 
after  teaching  average  boys  all  day,  to  devote 
themselves  to  worse  than  average  boys  in  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  213 

Knabenhort.  Socially,  there  were  curious  difficul- 
ties. A  duke  may  be  careless  of  his  worldly  posi- 
tion, but  a  small  German  official  of  any  description, 
never,  and  the  young  stiff-necked  pedagogues 
jealously  claimed  their  prerogative  to  teach  boys  of 
the  better  class  Greek  and  Latin.  Men  from  the 
Folk's  School,  they  asserted,  should  be  summoned 
to  struggle  with  the  roughest  and  most  unprofit- 
able little  rascals  in  town.  But  the  Folk's  School 
teachers  had  these  boys  all  day  and  trained  them 
conscientiously,  on  the  old-fashioned  principle  of 
"  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child,"  as  well  as 
that  invective,  hurled  at  the  top  of  one's  voice  at 
a  youngster,  is  the  only  known  method  of  driving 
vulgar  fractions  into  his  head.  How  could  they 
then  thrash  and  scold  six  hours  a  day,  and  at  4  P.M. 
become  calm  and  winning  beings,  actuated  by 
sentiments  wholly  at  variance  with  their  own  tra- 
ditions and  training?  With  such  problems  the 
good  old  director  was  greatly  puzzled,  until  the 
novel  and  bold  thought  occurred  to  him  that  men 
not  all  day  professionally  occupied  with  boys,  men 
whose  nerves  were  not  weary  and  irritable,  and 
who  had  not  learned  to  regard  the  species  Small 
Boy  as  a  natural  enemy,  would  be  best  able  to  cope 
with  the  subtle  difficulties  of  the  Hort,  the  chief  of 


214  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

which  unquestionably  was  to  make  the  boys  like 
it ;  for  if  they  did  not  like  it  they  would  not  come, 
and  that  was  the  end  of  the  matter.  School  was 
compulsory  until  they  were  fourteen,  but  the 
government  did  not  interfere  with  their  right  to 
yell  and  hoot  and  fight  and  run  about  the  worst 
streets  and  alleys  between  daylight  and  dark,  and 
hang  about  dramshops,  and  inquisitively  watch 
the  goings-on  of  their  elders — the  worst  possible 
thing  for  their  soul's  health. 

The  director  presented  his  views  to  the  gentle- 
men of  the  committee,  who  shook  their  heads  and 
foresaw  failure,  as  gentlemen  of  committees  are  apt 
to  do  when  confronted  with  an  innovation,  forget- 
ting that  last  year's  innovation  is  this  year's  habit. 
They  were  convinced  that  only  the  veritable  ped- 
agogue could  appreciate  the  earnestness  of  the 
undertaking  and  establish  proper  discipline.  But 
they  finally  agreed  to  let  the  director  try  his  ex- 
periment—predestined they  declared  to  failure— 
in  one  of  the  eight  Horts. 

He  succeeded  in  pressing  into  the  service  his 
relative,  young  Heinrich,  an  architect  just  estab- 
lished, whose  genius  the  world  had  not  yet  begun 
to  recognize  to  an  absorbing  degree,  and  whose 
private  income  permitted  him  vagaries.  His 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  215 

friend  Theobald,  less  blessed  in  this  world's  goods, 
and  at  their  solicitation,  a  few  other  young  men 
employed  in  coaching  boys  for  various  examina- 
tions, came  also  when  they  could.  Both  had 
proved  successful  in  their  new  sphere,  and  the 
Hort  was  conducted  more  and  more  according  to 
their  ideas,  which  were  not  always  those  of  the 
committee,  or  even  of  the  Director.  The  entire 
council,  for  instance,  discussed  one  whole  evening 
with  much  fervor  the  question  of  ferule  or  no  fer- 
ule, the  majority  being  of  the  opinion  that  it  would 
be  impossible  without  it  to  control  youths  used  to 
whacks  from  their  cradles,  at  home  and  at  school. 
The  young  men  listened  to  the  arguments  pro  and 
con  with  much  the  same  feelings  as  if  the  point 
under  discussion  were,  in  this  nineteenth  century, 
whether  the  sun  revolved  round  the  earth  or  not ; 
and  they  gained  from  the  debate,  if  nothing  else, 
a  stronger  realization  of  the  marvellous  tenacity  of 
prejudice,  impeding  the  action  of  good  heads  and 
hearts.  But  after  the  wisdom  of  ages  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  depravity  of  youth  and  the  holy  uses  of 
chastisement  had  been  exhausted,  Arno  rose  and 
said  briefly,  that  he  would  not  attempt  to  reply  in 
detail  to  the  director  and  gentlemen  of  the  com- 
mittee, but  would  merely  call  their  attention  to  the 


216  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

fact  that  he  and  his  friends  were  not  teachers,  or 
men  accustomed  to  beating  small  boys.  They 
were  willing  to  undertake  the  work  at  the  Hort, 
provided  they  might  be  left  free  to  exercise  their 
own  judgment  as  to  the  discipline  required.  They 
unanimously  believed  that  these  boys  met  with 
sufficient  roughness  elsewhere,  and  that  the  Hort, 
if  successful,  ought  to  be  a  surprise  and  contrast 
to  their  daily  life;  that,  in  short,  he  and  his 
friends  rejected  the  ferule.  If  it  were  insisted 
upon,  they  begged  to  withdraw. 

The  gentlemen  of  the  committee  shook  their 
venerable  heads  again,  differed  among  themselves, 
and  took  considerable  time  to  make  up  their 
minds.  They  were  honest  and  kind  men  who  gave 
their  services  and  money  to  the  Hort,  and  each 
heartily  desired  its  good,  but  if  they  had  not  sys- 
tematically disapproved  every  modern  idea,  and 
stood  firm  on  their  moss-grown  platform,  they 
would  not  have  been  happy  or  felt  that  they  were 
doing  their  duty.  They  had  had  a  goodly  amount 
of  feruling  themselves,  they  urged,  and  had  thrived 
on  it,  and  lived  to  be  old  and  respectable. 

"  You  had  homes  as  a  counteracting  influence," 
Arno  retorted.  "  These  boys  have  not." 

"What  would  you  do  if   a  big  rowdy  boy  of 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  217 

fourteen  should  insult  you?"  asked  the  director, 
whose  kind  heart  desired  peaceful  ways,  but  whose 
traditions  led  him  to  base  small  hope  on  moral 
suasion  with  beings  whose  morals  were  imper- 
ceptible. 

"  I  should  probably  put  him  out,"  replied  Arno, 
"but  I  require  no  little  polished  stick  for  that 
purpose." 

As  candidates  for  work  at  the  Hort  were  scarcely 
to  be  obtained  for  love  or  money,  the  directors  ac- 
cepted the  young  men  upon  their  own  terms.  In 
four  years  no  ferule  had  been  used  and  no  rowdy 
boy  ejected.  Theobald's  and  Heinrich's  youthful 
pessimism  and  Weltsclimerz — which  they  had  fondly 
believed  was  intellectual — received  a  powerful 
check  in  contact  with  the  worst  gamins  of  the  city. 
For  gradually  the  conviction  took  possession  of 
the  two  students  of  boy-nature,  that  for  the  re- 
demption of  the  world,  the  next  best  thing  to  cast- 
ing the  beam  out  of  one's  own  eye  is  helping  chil- 
dren to  cast  the  motes  out  of  their  eyes. 

So-called  charitable  work  with  tough  old  sinners 
is  apt  to  prove  in  the  long  run,  even  to  the  most 
perennially  sanguine  temperament,  a  weary  and 
heart-sickening  task.  There  are  too  many  dragons 
to  slay,  and  when  with  the  best  intentions  one 


218  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

feeds,  encourages  and  gives  to  the  poor  and  needy, 
one  frequently  discovers  with  dismay  that  one  is 
feeding  and  strengthening  the  dragons  too. 

But  children  are  the  future,  children  are  hope 
and  promise  incarnate.  Children,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  have  the  right  to  receive  gifts  unquestioning. 
The  professional  beggar  and  the  professional  court- 
ier cringe  and  lie  for  small  favors,  but  the  child, 
with  wide-eyed  indifference,  deigns  to  accept  love's 
gift  of  a  flower  or  a  kingdom,  and  be  he  of  high 
'or  low  degree,  has  no  gratitude  in  his  soul.  Why 
should  he  ?  Surely,  if  he  finds  himself  by  no  fault 
of  his  own  on  this  planet,  he  may  justly  claim  sus- 
tenance, clothing,  education,  and  some  pleasure 
too,  until  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  As  to 
gratitude,  that  is  a  cultivated  attribute,  attainable 
by  but  a  few  choice  spirits  —  generally  indeed 
effervescent — and  utterly  foreign  to  childhood,  and 
the  childish. 

The  boys  of  the  Hort  marched  in,  then,  and  took 
all  that  they  could  get,  enjoyed  themselves,  and 
were  sturdily  and  honestly  thankless.  If  there 
was  no  gratitude,  there  was  also  no  obsequious- 
ness, and  their  unconsciousness  of  obligation  had 
its  own  dignity.  They  were  told  the  place  was 
theirs  ;  they  took  possession.  Instead  of  learning 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  219 

their  school  lessons  as  before  in  cold,  ill-lighted 
rooms,  amid  the  cries  of  peevish,  ailing  babies,  and 
the  distractions  of  squalor,  quarrelling,  oaths,  and 
blows  —  warmth,  comfort,  quiet,  and  cleanliness 
were  now  provided  for  them.  They  adapted  them- 
selves to  the  change  with  the  ease  with  which  you 
or  I  to-morrow  would  adapt  ourselves  to  the  balmy 
influences  of  an  inherited  million.  Food  for  their 
stomachs  and  food  for  their  eager,  half-starved 
minds  were  given  them  freely.  They  partook  of 
both  simply,  and  as  their  right.  Sometimes  the 
visiting  clergyman  told  them  they  must  be  humble 
and  grateful.  It  is  to  be  feared  they  profited  lit- 
tle from  his  exhortations.  How  could  vigorous, 
thoughtless  young  animals,  good-natured  enough 
when  let  alone,  fierce  when  attacked,  perceive  the 
true  meaning  of  gratitude  and  humility. 

But  they  were,  after  all,  quite  as  humble  and 
grateful  as  Kurt  von  Normann  and  his  like.  That 
favored  youth  was  not  apt  to  shed  tears  of  joy 
over  evidences  of  his  parents'  goodness,  or  to 
thank  Providence  for  his  dinner.  Why  then 
should  one  expect  more  delicacy  from  these  little 
fellows  ?  Why  was  it  not  their  right  to  be  taken 
care  of,  and  made  happy,  and  trained  into  honest 
men?  Why,  indeed,  was  it  not  somebody's  duty  to 


220  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

atone  as  far  as  possible  for  the  disease  and  vice, 
and  hunger  and  cold  that  had  hovered  over  their 
cradles?  For  all  their  early  years  had  failed  to 
show  them  of  cheerfulness,  honesty,  and  kindly 
refining  things.  It  would  really  seem  that  a  well- 
dressed,  well  -  fed,  well  -  educated  man  of  easy 
means  who  presumes  to  stand  before  such  chil- 
dren and  instruct  them  that  their  first  duty  is  to 
be  humble  and  grateful,  is  totally  destitute  of  both 
justice  and  humor.  It  would  be  more  to  the  pur- 
pose if  he  should  take  upon  his  complacent  self 
the  burden  of  humility,  and  beg  the  children's 
pardon  for  his  share  of  their  unmerited  wrongs 
and  the  world's  gross  neglect. 

The  young  men  learned  much  of  the  boys,  grew 
to  like  and  believe  in  them,  hence  gained  new 
faith  in  human  nature  and  courage  for  the  work 
day  by  day.  There  was  roughness  enough  to 
contend  against,  greed  too,  and  astounding  ignor- 
ance, but  nothing  wholly  disheartening.  If  the 
boys  cheated  rather  skilfully,  they  were  no  greater 
adepts  in  trickiness  than  other  schoolboys,  and 
like  them  were  by  no  means  perfidious,  hardened 
hypocrites,  but  responsive  to  kindness  and  reason, 
administered  in  small  doses  and  not  in  high- 
sounding  phrases.  The  softening  influence  of  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  221 

Hort,  and  the  power  of  that  subtle  thing  esprit  de 
corps  on  all  these  waifs  and  strays,  exceeded  the 
most  sanguine  anticipations.  Whoever  expected 
the  boys  to  appreciate  the  trouble  they  were  giv- 
ing, to  be  sentimental,  or  to  kneel  and  kiss  their 
benefactors'  hands,  were  mightily  mistaken.  But 
whoever  reckoned  upon  their  pride  appealed  to, 
fairly,  now  for  the  first  time  ;  upon  their  gregari- 
ousness ;  upon  the  social  instinct  of  imitation  ; 
upon  tho  fact  that  if  you  accost  the  simple  child 
of  nature  civilly  the  chances  are  he  gives  a  decent 
answer,  and  that  if  you  make  yourself  disagree- 
able, he  beats  you  at  your  own  game ;  upon  the 
intense  satisfaction  which  children,  rich  and  poor, 
feel  in  being  treated  with  deference ;  upon  their 
natural  pleasure  in  being  fed,  warmed,  clothed, 
and  amused;  and  upon  the  affection  and  good- 
heartedness  of  the  average  young  boy,  if  one 
knows  how  to  approach  him,  was  doomed  to  no 
disappointment. 

Heinrich's  respect  for  his  boys  increased  with 
his  knowledge  of  them.  In  retrospective  and 
prophetic  mood  he  looked  around  to-night  on 
their  bright  busy  faces,  remembering  how  hope- 
lessly coarse  and  bad  many  had  seemed  the  first 
day  he  saw  them.  He  knew  from  what  dens  and 


222  A  BATTLE  AMD  A  EOT. 

holes  some  had  come.  He  recognized  the  incal- 
culable force  for  good  in  rousing  the  self-respect 
of  the  most  seemingly  depraved  child  and  in  not 
curbing  his  sense  of  personal  freedom,  even  while 
suggesting  the  novel  thought  of  the  inviolability  of 
his  neighbor's  rights.  There  was  much  which  he 
and  Arno  longed  to  do  which  was  not  yet  practica- 
ble. But  they  worked  unwearyingly  to  impress 
upon  these  malleable  souls  that  two  and  two  make 
four,  not  only  on  their  slates  but  all  through  nat- 
ure ;  a  simple  but  vast  fact  frequently  ignored  by 
philanthropists,  who  in  homilies  to  the  poor  pre- 
fer to  accentuate  the  virtues  of  submission  and 
content. 

To  endeavor  to  convince  the  parents  of  the 
Hort  boys  that  nothing  happened  without  cause, 
in  them  anymore  than  anywhere  else,  would  have 
been  in  vain,  for  they,  while  for  the  most  part 
without  a  breath  of  real  religion  or  any  conception 
of  moral  effort,  were  hopelessly  imbued  with  cant, 
and  ready  enough  with  pious  phrases  to  support 
their  ignorance  and  superstition.  Either  the  Lord 
was  angry  with  them  and  punished  them,  not  for 
anything  they  had  done,  but  from  what  in  a  man 
would  be  called  purely  personal  and  arbitrary  mo- 
tives— or  "  the  Lord  would  provide,"  whether  they 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  223 

were  lazy  and  profligate  or  not.  Whatever  their 
trouble,  whatever  their  transgression,  they  shifted 
the  responsibility  upon  the  Lord's  shoulders,  and 
expected  Him  to  step  in  and  make  good  their 
fatuity  and  helplessness.  That  the  exercise  of 
their  intelligence  and  self-control  would  not  be 
displeasing  to  the  Almighty,  did  not  occur  to  them. 
If  they  left  a  child  just  beginning  to  walk,  locked 
in  a  room  alone  with  a  lighted  kerosene  lamp  on 
a  rickety  chair,  it  was  inscrutable  Providence 
that  tipped  over  the  chair,  broke  the  lamp,  and 
burned  the  child.  The  father  of  one  of  the  boys, 
while  strongly  under  the  influence  of  grog,  had 
fallen  from  a  scaffolding  and  been  seriously  in- 
jured, and  Heinrich  heard  him  say  it  was  the 
Lord's  will  he  should  fall.  Another  man,  con- 
victed of  three  most  aggravatedly  brutal  and  cold- 
blooded murders,  informed  the  court  that  "he 
would  leave  it  all  to  the  dear  Lord." 

It  seemed  worth  while,  then,  with  no  discussion 
of  creed  or  dogma,  to  try  to  give  the  children  of 
such  parents  some  sense  of  personal  responsibility, 
and  to  teach  them  something  of  the  law  of  cause 
and  effect,  not  only  among  the  grasses,  the  flowers, 
and  trees,  the  animal  kingdom,  the  tides,  and  the 
stars,  but  in  their  own  physical  and  spiritual  lives. 


224  A  BATTLE  AND  A  B07. 

It  seemed  fair  to  suggest  to  them,  that  pain  and 
disease  did  not  indicate  God's  wrath,  but  only 
broken  laws,  and  that  He  had  breathed  a  spark 
of  His  divine  spirit  into  each  of  them,  that  they 
should  develop  and  not  smother  or  stultify  it. 

As  the  boys  were  summoned  to  the  music-room 
Heinrich  observed  a  little  pantomime.  Franzl 
piloting  Artur  among  the  hurrying  coltish  throng, 
pushed  a  boy  of  threatening  size  and  proximity 
most  summarily  out  of  the  way,  who  turned  with 
an  angry  exclamation  and  uplifted  arm,  but  seeing 
Artur,  understood  and  went  quietly  on. 

"  Ah,"  thought  Heinrich,  "  if  the  world  would 
stop  fighting  and  begin  to  take  care  of  the  chil- 
dren, it  would  wake  some  morning — after  ages,  it 
may  be — and  find  its  prisons  empty." 


XIV. 

THE  Christmas-tree  stood  in  the  Normanns' 
drawing-room  and  shone  with  enchanting  effects  of 
color,  and  two  hundred  tapers  already  burned  half 
down.  The  mingled  odors  of  the  pine  and  of 
choice  roses  floated  in  the  warm  air.  The  children 
had  given  the  servants  their  presents  first,  pranc- 
ing down  the  hall  with  delightfully  mysterious 
packages  to  the  group  of  men  and  women — includ- 
ing Leni — waiting  in  joyous  expectation  scarcely 
less  than  Hildegard's.  She  had  presented  her 
papa  with  his  slippers,  tarnished  with  some  hope- 
less tears  and  precious  drops  of  her  thumb's  blood, 
and  spoken  the  poem  which  she  had  learned  for 
him,  and  if  there  were  queer  stitches  in  the  one 
gift  and  queer  slips  in  the  other,  Doris  had  come 
to  the  rescue  in  both  instances,  and  the  little  girl 
was  triumphant. 

"  Now,  papa,"  she  said,  "every  present  is  given, 
everybody  is  perfectly  terribly  happy,  and  it's  time 
for  Franzl's  Three  Wishes.  Kurt  has  promised  not 


226  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

to  tease  and  interrupt  if  I'd  give  him  my  whole 
box  of  chocolate." 

"  How  could  you  be  such  a  pig,  Kurt  ?  "  Doris 
exclaimed. 

"  Chocolate  makes  her  stomach  ache,"  he  an- 
swered, indistinctly,  his  mouth  full. 

"  And  your  own  ?  "  inquired  his  father. 

"  Oh,  mine  aches  anyhow  on  the  day  after 
Christmas."  He  retired  to  a  corner  with  his  fatal- 
ism, his  goodies,  and  one  of  his  new  books. 

"  Why  shouldn't  the  dear  child  have  a  little 
freedom  on  Christmas  Eve  ?  "  urged  Frau  von  Nor- 
mann. 

"  Since  the  robber-knight  is  gorging  himself,  the 
moment  seems  propitious,"  remarked  the  major. 
"  Let  Franzl  tell  me  what  he  wants." 

"  Not  tell  you  what  he  wants,  papa,"  remon- 
strated Hildegard.  "  Anybody  can  do  that.  You 
promised  he  should  have  Three  Wishes.  That's 
quite  another  thing,  don't  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear.  I'll  try  to  appreciate  the 
difference." 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  he's  got  good  ones.  I  always 
thought  they  were  stupid  in  the  fairy-books.  Do 
you  know  what  I'd  have  said  for  my  first  wish  ? 
*  I  wish  that  all  my  wishes  would  come  true  ?  ' " 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  227 

"But  then  there  would  have  been  no  more 
fairy  tale,"  suggested  Doris.  "  You  would  have 
stopped  it  short.  No  more  wishes — no  more  mis- 
takes— no  more  happiness,  no  more  story." 

Hildegard  looked  puzzled. 

"  Oh — but — you  see — I  didn't  think  of  that — 
and  if  I'd  been  in  the  story  I'd  have  wished  it  to 
keep  on  forever — and — oh,  dear  me — Doris,  you've 
mixed  me  all  up  ! " 

"  The  philosophy  of  this  discussion  is  too  much 
for  Hildegard  and  me.  It  doesn't  make  us  happy. 
Leave  us  a  few  illusions,  Doris.  Bring  on  Franzl. 
Where  is  the  boy?" 

"  Showing  his  presents  to  Leni." 

Hildegard  danced  down  the  hall  and  led  him 
back,  books  under  one  arm,  warm  woollen  things 
under  the  other,  a  noisy  little  clock  in  his  hand, 
rapture  on  his  face,  and  a  large  prune  in  his  mouth, 
its  brown  decorations  visible  about  his  lips. 

"  Now,  Franzl,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  the 
major  asked,  in  an  off-hand  fashion. 

"Oh,  papa,  that's  not  right,"  urged  Hildegard, 
much  distressed.  "  You  must  make  a  speech  and 
everybody  must  be  still — even  mamma." 

"  You  see,  Hildegard,"  said  a  muffled  voice  from 
the  corner,  "  I'm  not  the  only  one  that  spoils  your 


228  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

circus.  You'll  have  to  bribe  them  all,  and  you'd 
better  hurry.  The  chocolates  are  more  than  half 
gone." 

"  I  forgot,  dear.  I'll  try  to  be  more  imposing," 
the  major  assured  his  little  daughter. 

"Franzl,"  she  whispered,  "put  down  those 
things  and  wipe  your  face,  won't  you  ?  " 

With  evident  reluctance,  he  deposited  his  treas- 
ures on  the  floor  near  him  and  rubbed  his  sleeve 
across  his  mouth. 

Hildegard  with  her  own  handkerchief  completed 
the  ceremony,  and  pulled  him  to  the  spot  on  the 
carpet  where  it  seemed  to  her  he  ought  to  stand, 
dancing  about  him  and  giving  him  little  approving 
touches  and  pats. 

Doris  induced  silence  in  the  family  group,  and 
the  servants  drew  nearer. 

The  major  rose  and  said,  as  gravely  as  possible  : 

"I  have  the  honor  to  officiate  as  fairy-god- 
mother this  evening  in  response  to  the  prayer  of  a 
little  person  for  whom  I  entertain  feelings  of 
deepest  affection,  as  well  as  profound  respect  for 
her  gentle  thought  of  others." 

"  That's  it !  That's  the  way !  "  whispered  Hil- 
degard, pulling  his  coat-tails  encouragingly. 

"  And  I  wish  that  my  son  and  heir,  who  is  stuff- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  229 

ing  himself  in  the  corner,  were  half  as  unselfish  as 
she." 

Kurt  gave  a  malicious  and  chocolate-y  gurgle  : 

"  Don't  mind  me,  papa.  You'll  get  off  the 
track." 

"  No,  don't  mind  him,"  whispered  Hildegard, 
anxiously. 

The  major  resumed : 

"  It  is  then  at  the  request  of  my  daughter  Hil- 
degard that  I  have  agreed  to  grant  Franzl  three 
wishes — provided  they  are  reasonable  and  in  my 
power.  But  if  the  method  is  hers,  I  may  well  add 
that  nothing  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to 
grant  him  the  dearest  wish  of  his  heart.  For  he 
has  given  me  and  mine  our  dear  boy's  life,  and 
our  boy  is  unspeakably  precious  to  us,  and  "- 
meeting  the  glance  of  Kurt's  wicked,  satirical  eye 
— "  and — and — a  great  deal  better  fellow  than  he 
looks  to-night,  at  all  events  ! " 

"  Hear,  hear,  hurrah !  "  called  Kurt. 

"  Sh— h !  "  said  Hildegard. 

"  I  must  express  my  appreciation  not  only  of 
Franzl's  courage  and  manliness,  but  also  of  his 
modesty,  good  sense,  and  " — looking  pointedly 
into  the  corner — "  his  complete  absence  of  greed. 
Few  boys  could  or  would  have  waited  three 


230  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

months,  knowing  I  was  ready  any  day  to  gladly  do 
anything  in  my  power  for  them." 

"  I  know  one  that  wouldn't,"  mumbled  Kurt. 

"Now,  in  order  to  make  this  ceremony  long 
enough  and  impressive  enough  to  satisfy  Hilde- 
gard's  severely  classic  and  critical  taste,  permit  me 
to  inquire  if  your  wishes  are  in  good  running 
order,  Franzl?  Have  you  prepared  your  part 
of  the  entertainment  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  right,  papa.  It  sounds  almost  as 
if  you  were  making  fun,"  expostulated  the  little 
voice  at  his  elbow. 

"I've  got  two  of  them  ready,"  Franzl  replied, 
promptly. 

"Two?" 

"I  don't  think  of  anything  else." 

"  You  are  an  odd  boy  !  " 

"Oh; I  say,  will  you  trade  the  third  one?" 
Kurt  proposed.  "  I'll  give  you  my  sled  for  it — for 
half  of  it." 

"  I've  got  a  sled,"  returned  Franzl,  majestically. 

"  What  kind  of  a  one !  "  sneered  Kurt.  "  An 
old  box.  Mine's  a  double  runner." 

"  O  papa,  tell  Kurt  to  be  still.  He  promised. 
He  doesn't  belong  in  this  at  all." 

"Kurt,  you  devote  yourself  to  your  own  peculiar 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  231 

joys.  You  can  have  no  mortgage  on  Franzl's 
wish,  or  play  in  Hildegard's  theatre.  You  say 
that  you  are  ready  to  tell  me  two  wishes,  then, 
Franzl.  For  form's  sake  merely,  because  Hilde- 
gard  likes  me  to  be  dignified,  not  because  I  doubt 
you  an  instant,  no  one  has  suggested  either  or  any 
part  of  them  to  you,  and  you  have  mentioned  them 
to  none  ?  " 

"Nobody  knows  anything  that  I'm  going  to 
say,"  Franzl  declared,  gleefully. 

"  Then,  my  dear  boy,  don't  keep  us  any  longer 
in  suspense.  What  is  your  first  wish  ?  " 

The  major  was  conscious  of  not  a  little  curiosity. 
Hildegard,  one  flutter  of  excitement,  would  have 
been  best  pleased  had  Franzl  asked  for  a  horse 
with  wings  or  a  cap  to  make  him  invisible.  Frau 
von  Normann,  Doris,  the  guests,  the  servants  in 
the  background,  all  fixed  amused  expectant  eyes  on 
the  child,  while  Kurt,  with  a  superior  man-of-the- 
world  smile,  thought  that  if  he  were  in  Franzl's 
shoes  he'd  make  their  hair  stand  on  end. 

Franzl  stood  by  the  tree  and  faced  the  room  in 
a  state  of  rapturous  and  boundless  excitement,  not 
in  the  least  on  account  of  the  wishes — he  knew 
very  clearly  what  he  had  to  say — but  because  of 
the  joy  of  this  wonderful  Christmas,  of  the  beau- 


332  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

tiful  bright  house  and  pictures  and  music — such  as 
he  was  going  to  have  when  he  was  grown.  He  re- 
membered his  last  Christmas  and  the  tiny  tree, 
and  his  mother  smiling  and  asking  him  if  it 
wasn't  pretty  and  if  he  wasn't  pleased,  and  sud- 
denly dropping  her  head  on  the  table  and  sobbing 
as  if  her  heart  would  break.  The  lump  had  come 
several  times  that  evening,  he  found  himself  so 
often  wishing  that  she  could  see  his  things.  He 
wished  little  puckery  bundles  didn't  take  such  an 
awful  long  time  to  grow  into  girls  and  sisters  a  fel- 
low could  speak  to.  Sometimes  he  wished  Loisl 
was  as  big  as  Fraulein  Doris,  and  sometimes  he'd 
like  her  no  bigger  than  Hildegard,  and  he  wouldn't 
mind  if  she  were  like  Leni  either ;  but  it  was  long 
to  wait  for  her  to  grow  into  a  sensible  kind  of 
family  that  a  fellow  could  take  comfort  in.  As  he 
remembered  those  ten  pink  toes,  he  smiled  with 
lingering  fondness,  his  eyes  raised  toward  the 
frescoed  ceiling — like  what  he  was  going  to  have 
by  and  by — his  whole  presence  beautiful,  uncon- 
scious, and  free. 

It  was  but  an  instant  he  paused  to  get  his 
thoughts  straightened  out — which  were  tumbling 
over  one  another  in  the  queerest  way — thoughts  of 
home,  of  the  Hort,  of  the  farm,  of  all  the  people 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  233 

he  knew,  the  white  procession,  the  brook  at  the 
child-market,  and  Pauli's  mother  with  the  man's 
hat  on  her  head. 

"  I  wish,"  he  began  in  a  clear,  confident  voice 
and  looking  squarely  in  the  major's  eyes,  "  that 
you'd  let  Leni  have  Karl,  because  they  want  to  be 
a  family." 

A  suppressed  frightened  exclamation  and  the 
hurried  opening  and  closing  of  a  door  were  heard 
from  the  servants'  group. 

The  major  stared  in  astonishment  at  the  boy 
who,  however,  gave  him  no  opportunity  to  respond, 
but  went  on  with  calm  truthfulness,  every  word 
distinct  and  sweet : 

"You'll  have  to  get  Karl  some  sort  of  a  place, 
you  know,  Herr  Major.  He's  got  to  have  some 
kind  of  home  ready  for  her.  A  gardener's  place 
she'd  like  best.  But  she  doesn't  care.  She  only 
wants  to  be  a  family.  She  doesn't  want  meadows 
or  orchards  or  barns  or  cattle.  She'd  rather  have 
the  smallest  house,  the  smallest  room  with  Karl." 

"  But,  Franzl,"  stammered  the  amazed  major. 

"  There's  nothing  Karl  can't  do,"  continued  the 
child,  with  his  air  of  illuminated  reminiscence. 
"  Her  father  can't  find  any  fault  with  him  except 
he's  poor.  It  was  three  years  ago  he  turned  him 


234  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

out  of  the  house,  that  very  night.  It  was  about  a 
year  ago  he  made  up  his  mind  she  should  marry 
Andreas  Klumpp.  When  she  tells  her  father 
Jenny's  giving  less  milk,  they  look  in  each  other's 
eyes  and  see  Andreas  Klumpp.  No  matter  how 
hard  and  long  work  is,  it  comes  to  an  end  some 
time,  and  you  can  draw  a  long  breath  and  say, 
'That's  done,  thank  heaven!'  but  if  it's  inside 
of  you,  if  it's  two  people  pulling  in  different  direc- 
tions under  one  roof,  and  each  as  tough  as  the 
other,  it's  awful,  it  tires  you  out  soul  and  body. 
First  he  said  November,  and  when  she  told  him 
she'd  rather  run  away,  then  he  said  February. 
The  women  said  she'd  better  take  Klumpp  and 
done  with  it  and  wear  a  decent  face  on  her.  What 
did  she  want  more  than  the  biggest  farm  for  miles 
and  miles  ?  As  for  Karl,  she  might  as  well  give 
him  up  first  as  last,  for  old  Christian  never 
changes  his  mind." 

"  The  deuce  he  doesn't ! "  muttered  the  major, 
laughing  so  hard  that  he  had  to  wipe  his  eyes. 

Franzl  went  on  with  the  tenacity  of  the  Ancient 
Mariner. 

"Andreas  Klumpp  is  sixty  years  old,  has  the 
palsy,  a  bald  head,  and  one  foot  in  the  grave.  It 
isn't  very  lively  at  his  house.  Of  course  Leni 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  235 

can't  marry  him  when  Karl  is  her  real  family  and 
young  and  pleasant-looking,  with  merry  eyes,  and 
they  are  lovers.  He  came  to  work  when  he  was  a 
little  boy.  Her  mother  loved  him  like  a  son.  If 
Leni  can  almost  manage  a  whole  farm  year  after 
year  when  her  heart  is  heavy,  it  is  reasonable  to 
believe  she  could  make  a  little  room  warm  and 
cosey  and  bright,  if  she  felt  hopeful  and  glad.  It 
was  quiet  that  night,  so  she  could  tell  me  things. 
Sometimes  her  mouth  is  sealed.  Then  she  has 
no  one  to  speak  to.  If  her  mother  had  lived  it 
would  have  been  different." 

"  Dear  little  Franzl !  "  murmured  Doris. 

"  Have  you  finished  ?  "  asked  the  major.  "  Are 
you  sure  you've  reeled  off  all  of  it  ?  " 

Franzl  observed  that  they  were  laughing,  but 
did  not  trouble  himself  about  a  trifle  like  that,  be- 
ing too  much  absorbed  in  what  he  had  had  on  his 
mind,  weeks  and  weeks. 

"  Yes,  I  think  that's  all,  except  perhaps  you'll  let 
Karl  be  your  gardener  or  something,  because  he's 
only  working  in  his  cousin's  vineyard  now,  and 
perhaps  you'd  give  them  a  little  room.  Leni  is 
tired  of  the  fight,  and  Andreas  Klumpp  is  like  a 
black  shadow  over  everything,  and  Lutz  is  hard  as 
a  rock,  and  she's  worked  as  she's  never  worked 


236  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

before ;  and  when  she  knew  how  hard  her  father 
felt  toward  her,  she  worked  still  better,  hoping 
to  please  him.  Wherever  a  sharp  eye,  a  willing 
hand,  and  quick  feet  could  help,  they  have  helped 
her  father,  and  he  knows  it.  The  women  may  say 
she's  proud  and  stiff — they  do  all  the  time,  I 
hear  them — but  they  can't  say  she  doesn't  work, 
nobody  can.  He  sees  how  she  tries  day  and 
night.  But  it's  no  use.  He's  got  it  into  his  head 
his  farm  and  Andreas  Klumpp's  farm  must  marry. 
It  makes  Leni  tired  and  awful  old.  She  isn't 
any  older  than  Fraulein  Doris,  though  she  looks 
miles  older,  Fraulein  Doris  is  so  white  and  soft. 
It's  work  that  ages  women.  She's  only  young 
with  KarL  She  wants  to  be  young  and  happy  a 
little  while  with  him.  It  isn't  any  kind  of  a  fam- 
ily if  you  marry  a  man  with  his  foot  in  the  grave 
and  the  palsy.  It's  hard  for  an  honest  girl  to  dis- 
obey her  father.  But  if  he  turns  her  out  she'll  go. 
She  and  Karl  belong  to  each  other.  That's  the 
long  and  short  of  it.  She  and  I  have  been  friends 
since  the  first  day,  and  if  she's  had  any  comfort 
since  I  came  it's  through  me,  and  that's  the  truth. 
She  wanted  me.  She  felt  kind  to  me.  She 
thought  a  good  deal  about  me.  She  believed  I'd 
bring  her  good  luck,  but  perhaps  that  was  only  a 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  237 

notion.  She  remembered  how  pleasant  it  was 
when  her  mother  was  alive,  and  Karl  was  a  little 
boy  and  took  care  of  the  cows.  Grown  people 
want  their  mothers  too.  A  room  would  do,  but  I 
think  she'd  like  a  house  better."  He  smiled  pro- 
phetically at  the  carving  and  frescoes.  "  Quite  a 
small  house  would  do  for  them.  That's  my  first 
wish,"  he  continued  confidently,  stooping  to  take 
up  his  clock. 

"  All  of  it  ?  "  gasped  the  major. 

"  O  Franzl,  you  are  splendid !  You're  a  daisy 
boy !  "  cried  Hildegard.  "  Such  a  beauty  wish ! 
Now,  papa,  it's  your  turn." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I've  ever  in  my  life  been  so 
amused,"  said  the  major. 

Franzl  regarded  him  with  solemn  wonder. 

"  We  laugh  because  it's  a  surprise,  dear,"  Doris 
explained. 

"  Yes,  a  great  surprise,"  her  father  agreed,  em- 
phatically. "I  did  not  anticipate  this  plunge  into 
a  village  idyl." 

"  But  you  promised,  papa,  and  it  is  his  wish." 

"I  promised  anything  reasonable  and  in  my 
power,  my  dear.  This  is  an  unexpected  turn  of 
affairs.  I  must  consider.  Upon  my  word  I'm 
interested,  I'm  touched.  It's  astonishing  what  an 


238  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

unmitigated  brute  that  sort  of  man  can  be.  He's 
what  they  call  an  honest  man,  a  moral  man,  a 
thrifty  man !  And  now  he's  going  to  sacrifice  the 
happiness  of  a  good,  faithful  daughter,  and  all  for 
an  idea — a  selfish,  soulless,  mercenary,  stubborn 
whim !  He's  a  hard  man,  a  very  hard  man.  It  is 
inconceivable ! " 

With  a  fine  crescendo  effect  he  worked  himself 
up  to  a  high  pitch  of  virtuous  indignation. 

"  It's  not  my  matter.  It's  not  a  thing  for  chil- 
dren to  settle,  obviously — still — 

"  But  we  like  it,  you  know,"  cried  Hildegard, 
"  we  like  it  terrible  much,  it  is  so  grown  up." 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  Karl  be  your  gardener  ?  " 
demanded  Franzl. 

The  major  reflected. 

"  The  more  I  think  of  it  the  less  I  see  any  rea- 
son why  I  should  not  give  him  a  situation,  pro- 
vided he's  a  good  man.  I'm  free  to  engage  any- 
body that  suits  me,  am  I  not?  I  always  need 
extra  help  toward  spring,  don't  I?  I  can  take 
Christian  Lutz's  son-in-law  as  well  as  anybody 
else,  can  I  not  ?  Of  course  I  do  not  assume  any 
responsibility  in  respect  of  people's  feelings  and 
matrimonial  intentions,  but  that  Lutz  is  an  uncom- 
monly disobliging,  mulish  fellow.  He  intends  to 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  239 

annoy  me  and  oppose  me,  and  it  seems,  to  annoy 
and  oppose  everybody  else.  It  will  be  a  healthy 
thing  for  him  to  find  out  others  can  oppose  too. 
Upon  my  word  I  sympathize  with  the  young  peo- 
ple. I'll  do  what  I  can.  Unmannerly  fellow,  that 
Lutz!  I  wish  you'd  heard  him  talk  to  me,  or 
rather  not  talk  to  me,  perhaps  I  ought  to  say.  At 
all  events,  when  he  spoke,  and  when  he  didn't 
speak  he  was  equally  obnoxious.  Why  shouldn't 
that  nice,  modest,  pretty  girl  Leni  have  the  man 
she  wants  ?  Here,  Franzl,  here's  my  hand  on  it. 
You've  got  me  into  curious  business,  but  I'll  try 
Karl  as  under-gardener." 

"  And  the  house  ?  " 

"  It  goes  with  the  place." 

"  All  right,"  said  Franzl,  with  a  satisfied  smile. 
"  Of  course  I  knew  you  would,"  he  added,  approv- 
ingly- 

"Thank  you,"  returned  the  major. 

"  Now  please,  papa,  make  them  be  still  again 
for  the  second  wish.  Please  shoo  at  Aunt  Helene." 

"  Isn't  one  enough,"  asked  Doris,  with  vague 
uneasiness,  "  so  good  a  one  too  ?  Shan't  we  let 
Franzl  keep  the  other  till  next  time  ?  " 

"  Why,  Doris ! "  exclaimed  Hildegard,  in  con- 
sternation. 


240  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Aren't  you  tired  of  it  ?  "  Doris  threw  her  arm 
round  her  father's  neck. 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  I'm  just  getting  into  the 
spirit  of  the  thing.  I  like  Hildegard's  variety- 
show.  That  boy  is  priceless.  My  appetite  is 
fairly  whetted  for  his  next  preposterously  droll 
idea." 

"It  is  only — I  thought — perhaps 

"  What  is  it  ?  Why,  Doris,  you  are  pale,  aren't 
you  ?  " 

"  It's  nothing,  papa,  nothing  that  I  really  know." 
She  glanced  hastily  round  the  room.  There  was 
no  stranger  there,  only  tolerably  harmless  aunts 
and  cousins.  She  had  motioned  the  servants  to 
go  out  when  Franzl  began  his  harangue  about 
Karl  and  Leni.  She  stooped  and  kissed  her 
father's  forehead." 

"  But  Doris,  if  you  please  wouldn't  interrupt ! " 
Hildegard  pleaded.  "You  can  kiss  papa  any 
time — just  when  Kurt  for  once  in  his  life  is  quiet, 
too ! " 

"  Now  Franzl,  my  boy,"  said  the  major,  genially, 
graciously,  putting  one  knee  comfortably  over  the 
other,  "  what's  the  second  one  ?  " 

"  I  wish,"  the  boy  began,  in  the  simplest,  most 
tranquil  way,  "that  you'd  please  let  Fraulein 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  241 

Doris  and  Herr  Arno  be  a  family  too,  because  she 
likes  him,  she's  always  known  him,  he's  awful 
good  to  me  and  the  other  boys,  and  he's  worth  six 
of  Count  Rosen,  who  is  at  the  officers'  riding- 
school  in  Hanover,  and  head  over  heels  in  debt — 
mean  debts  too — and  there's  going  to  be  trouble 
for  Fraulein  Doris  when  he  comes  back  in  the 
spring.  Down  in  Wynburg  you  are  doing  exactly 
what  they  are  doing  up  in  Waldheim.  It's  a  kind 
of  trade  everywhere,  and  it's  a  sin  to  marry  lands 
and  titles  together  instead  of  hearts ;  but  if  you  are 
poor  you  haven't  much  chance.  So  I  thought  if 
you  would  get  Herr  Arno  a  place,  some  sort  of  a 
book-y  place,  I  suppose,  it  would  be  a  great  deal 
pleasanter,  and  then  Fraulein  Doris  and  he  needn't 
be  wishing  for  something  they  can't  get,  quite 
like  Karl  and  Leni.  It  must  be  uncomfortable  to 
be  always  wishing  and  wishing,"  he  concluded, 
easily. 

The  major  had  given  a  start  and  risen  with  the 
child's  opening  words,  but  Franzl  was  not  light- 
ly turned  from  subjects  which  he  had  revolved 
months  in  his  busy  mind.  What  he  had  come  to 
say,  he  said,  and  as  to  people's  looks,  there  was  a 
great  deal  in  this  respect  which  he  found  queer  but 
unimportant — if  they  laughed  or  glared  at  him  it 


242  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

didn't  seem  to  make  much  difference,  since  he 
didn't  know  why,  and  they  always  stopped  sooner 
or  later. 

"  Doris ! "  the  major  said,  with  sternness. 

"  It's  quite  true,"  the  girl  replied,  bravely. 

"You  did  not " 

"  Know  ?  Oh,  papa,  could  I  do  such  a  thing  ? 
I  suddenly  felt — feared  what  he  would  say." 

"  My  family  affairs,"  he  muttered,  staring  with 
haughty  incredulity  at  everybody  except  the  cul- 
prit. 

"Dear  papa,  come  with  me,  come  into  your 
study,  and  mamma  too.  The  dear  little  boy 
meant  no  harm.  Don't  be  vexed  with  him.  It 
won't  be  worse  when  we've  spoken  of  it.  Perhaps 
it  will  be  better.  Come,"  she  murmured  caress- 
ingly, slipping  her  arm  in  his,  her  voice  somewhat 
tremulous,  her  face  sweet  and  resolute,  and  turn- 
ing on  the  threshold  to  smile  at  Franzl. 

Left  to  themselves,  the  children  held  high  car- 
nival. 

"  Oh,  you  do  it  splendidly,"  Hildegard  assured 
her  chief  orator  and  actor,  pirouetting  wildly  about 
him.  "It  has  gone  off  even  better  than  I  ex- 
pected. Because  the  wish  ought  always  to  make 
adventures,  you  know ;  and  when  Beauty  said  she 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  243 

wanted  only  a  rose,  she  got  everybody  into  trou- 
ble, and  you've  made  Doris  cry,  and  mamma  purse 
up  her  lips,  and  papa  terribly  angry,  and  they  are 
in  there  having  secrets ;  and  it's  splendid  fun,  and 
of  course  Arno's  millions  nicer  than  Count  Rosen  ; 
and  oh,  Franzl,  you  are  such  a  terrible  nice  little 
boy ! " 

While  Kurt  produced  his  entire  repertoire  of 
grimaces  to  do  justice  to  the  moment,  and  laughed 
uncontrollably  at  what  he  called  Franzl's  '  trap  to 
catch  a  sunbeam,'  and  rolled  on  the  carpet  and 
kicked  his  baronial  legs  as  a  relief  to  his  feel- 
ings. 

"  Why,  Franzl,  you  have  told  him  to  his  face  he 
was  like  old  Lutz  trading  his  daughter,  and  the 
joke  of  it  is  I  don't  see  how  he's  going  to  get  out 
of  it.  You  beat  me  even  at  impudence.  But  I'm 
with  you  so  far  as  Arno  is  concerned." 

"I  don't  think  you  act  very  sensible,"  Franzl 
calmly  observed,  trying  to  take  his  clock  to  pieces. 

"  I  don't  want  to  act  sensible.  Anybody 'd  be  a 
fool  who  was  sensible  after  hearing  you  and  papa. 
'  And  what  is  it  now,  Franzl,  my  boy  ? '  says  papa, 
smirking  as  bland  as  you  please,  and  off  goes  your 
bomb ! " 

"  Well,  if  I  had  to  wish,  why  shouldn't  I  wish 


244  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

what  I  did  wish?"  Franzl  demanded,  hotly. 
"  What  are  you  grinning  about,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  At  papa,  papa ! "  Kurt  called,  frantically. 
"  I'm  laughing  at  him  and  I  can't  stop  if  I  die  for 
it.  And  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Franzl,  you  know, 
but  it's  no  use  quarrelling  with  me  to-night,  when 
I've  laughed  till  I'm  weak  as  a  rag  and  you  can 
batter  me  and  drown  me  and  make  an  end  of  me 
in  no  time,  easier  than  ever." 

"  And  you  are  full  of  my  chocolate  up  to  the 
throat,  too,"  remarked  Hildegard,  with  asperity. 

"  I  don't  care  when  grown  people  laugh,"  Fraiizl 
said,  watching  him,  suspiciously.  "  They  are  al- 
ways laughing  when  nobody  knows  why,  but  you 
make  me  mad." 

"  Kurt  is  a  terrible  tease,  you  know,  but  he  isn't 
laughing  at  your  wishes,  really.  He  thinks  they 
are  splendid.  He  never  could  have  thought  of 
them  himself." 

"  No,  I  couldn't !  "  roared  Kurt,  breaking  out 
with  a  fresh  paroxysm.  "  Nobody  could  !  Oh,  it's 
daisy — it's  daisy  ! ** 

"It  will  all  end  right,  you'll  see,"  Hildegard 
said,  joyfully ;  "  and  we've  made  the  story,  and 
there  are  two  pairs  of  them." 

"  I'm  acquainted  with  lovers,"  Franzl  returned, 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  245 

loftily.  "  I  used  to  see  them  in  the  Venter 
Thai." 

It  was  long  before  the  family  council  adjourned. 
The  tapers  had  burned  low,  the  children  sat  on 
the  floor  chatting  in  drowsy,  intermittent  fashion, 
when  the  door  opened  and  they  sprang  up,  ex- 
pectant. 

Doris  was  pale,  wet-eyed,  but  radiant. 

The  major  came  straight  to  Franzl  and  stood  a 
few  moments  looking  down  with  curiously  conflict- 
ing emotions  before  speaking. 

"  My  friend — you  small  but  formidable  man — I 
have  concluded  to  grant  your  second  wish.  My 
daughter,  with  considerable  effort,  has  succeeded 
in  convincing  me  that  it  is  reasonable  and  in  my 
power.  You  seem  to  be  strangely  involved  in  the 
fate  of  my  family.  I  shall  never  forget,  I  trust 
not  one  of  us  will  ever  forget,  that  your  fate,  so  far 
as  human  power  can  shape  it,  concerns  us  vitally 
— our  honor  and  our  faithfulness." 

He  paused,  smiling  rather  sadly  on  them  all. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  made  me  win 
or  lose  to-night  children.  I  hope  it  is  all  for  the 
best." 

"  Why,  of  course,"  piped  up  Hildegard,  reassur- 
ingly. "  This  is  exactly  the  way  it  ought  to  be." 


246  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"It  is  very  sudden,"  remarked  Frau  von  Nor- 
mann,  plaintively,  "  and  trying." 

Doris  stooped  quickly  and  kissed  her  hand, 
whispering,  with  a  mischievous  smile  : 

"  He  is  so  very  fond  of  Kurt !  " 

"  Cheer  up,  papa,"  said  that  young  gentleman, 
"  it's  an  awfully  good  joke,  you  know,  but  you  are 
marching  out  of  it  with  flying  colors.  I'm  proud 
of  you,  and  I  vote  for  Arno  every  time." 

"  Let  it  be  said  I  have  surrendered,  after  some 
pretty  hot  skirmishing — surrendered  to  youth.  It 
has  proved  too  strong  for  me.  And,  Franzl,  I  feel 
grateful  that  you  have  been  generous  and  not  ex- 
erted your  power  to  its  utmost  limit — that  you 
have  tempered  justice  with  mercy.  I  don't  think 
I  could  bear  another  of  your  clever  surprises  to- 
night. I'll  put  that  third  wish  down  to  your 
credit.  I  shall  be  relieved  if  we  postpone  it  to  an 
indefinite  future." 

"  I  don't  mind,"  returned  Franzl,  sleepy  but  dig- 
nified, and  stretching  himself  to  his  extreme  dimen- 
sions— always  his  instinct  when  he  stood  near  the 
tall  major.  "  I  don't  want  anything  more  just  now. 
When  I  do,  I  will  tell  you — if  I  can't  get  it  my- 
self." 


XV. 

ONE  hundred  and  twenty  boys  with  their  clean- 
est faces,  their  straightest  backs,  and  their  hair 
brushed  till  it  stood  on  end  with  amazement,  sat 
in  long  rows  in  the  music-room  of  the  St.  John 
Hort.  Now  and  then  an  inconsequent  grin  flick- 
ered along  the  line  of  preternaturally  solemn  coun- 
tenances. The  shuffling  of  legs  inevitable  in  as- 
semblies of  boys,  whether  of  blue  or  some  other 
shade  of  blood,  and  doubtless  inherent  in  the  nat- 
ure of  the  animal,  was  a  prominent  feature  of  this 
occasion  ;  but  if  the  bases  of  the  little  human  col- 
umns were  frisky,  the  shafts  and  capitals  held 
themselves  with  imposing  rigidity.  It  was  rare 
that  a  giggle  of  the  smallest  dimensions  broke  loose, 
and  any  such  impropriety  was  frowned  down  and 
suppressed  by  common  consent.  A  child  who  was 
seized  with  a  nervous  tickling  in  his  throat,  and 
for  his  life  could  not  help  coughing  occasionally, 
was  promptly  signalled  what  would  happen  to  him 
upon  leaving  the  building.  Altogether,  distin- 


248  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

guished  sentiments  prevailed  in  the  Hort  that 
evening,  punctilious  observance  of  the  amenities 
of  good  society,  so  far  at  least  as  such  mysteries 
had  been  penetrated,  and  an  uncompromising  de- 
termination to  show  to  the  world  that  the  Hort 
as  a  body  had  nothing  to  learn  in  respect  of  con- 
duct appropriate  to  a  Christmas  festival. 

The  solid  integrity  of  the  Hort's  demeanor  was 
all  the  more  praiseworthy  because  subjected  to 
constant  temptation.  Kurt  von  Normann,  sitting 
among  the  patrons  and  spectators,  and  shuffling  his 
feet  with  as  much  animation  as  any  rag-picker's 
son,  devoted  himself  assiduously  to  the  task  of  un- 
dermining the  virtuous  gravity  of  the  juvenile  as- 
sembly, and  even  made  faces  behind  the  broad 
backs  of  church  dignitaries.  While  Hildegard, 
with  her  long  fair  hair,  white  hat,  ostrich  plumes, 
and  white  fur  coat  was  a  distracting  vision  and 
set  no  better  example  of  repose  of  manner  than  a 
humming-bird. 

Two  tall  pines  with  lighted  tapers  and  glittering 
gewgaws  stood  on  a  platform  at  the  end  of  the 
hall,  and  upon  long  tables  were  one  hundred  and 
twenty  books,  one  hundred  and  twenty  little 
mounds  of  cakes  and  fruit,  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  brown  packages,  each  containing  a  box  of 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  249 

writing  and  drawing  materials  and  three  coarse 
printed  pocket-handkerchiefs.  As  handkerchiefs 
do  not  grow  in  gutters,  and  few  boys  of  the  Hort 
had  ever  owned  a  story-book,  and  the  value  of  all 
mundane  things  depends  upon  the  point  of  view,  the 
princely  munificence  of  these  gifts  was  destined 
to  make  many  hearts  beat  high.  Speaking  with 
historical  accuracy,  there  were  but  one  hundred  and 
nineteen  boys  present.  The  one  hundred  and 
twentieth  was  grumbling  at  home  with  a  broken 
arm  and  some  bruises,  the  result  of  over-ambitious 
and  forbidden  efforts  on  the  high  trapeze  in  the 
absence  of  the  teacher. 

There  was  also  handsome  presents  for  the  Hort 
as  a  community,  additions  to  the  library,  to  the 
games  and  tools,  and  a  few  good  engravings.  In 
the  background  sat  such  parents  as  could  be  pre- 
vailed upon  to  come — Artur's  mother  quite  sober 
and  respectable — the  majority  pleased  and  proud 
of  their  children. 

The  ceremonies  were  a  compromise  between  old 
and  new  methods.  The  young  men  agreed  to  de- 
fer to  the  conservative  taste  of  the  Committee  in 
the  opening  exercises,  provided  they  might  be  free 
to  say  what  they  pleased  later.  The  programme 
then  was  conventional  and  edifying,  beginning  with 


250  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

a  few  introductory  remarks  by  the  director,  who 
stated  the  province  and  scope  of  the  Hort,  its  grati- 
fying success,  the  services  and  merits  of  the  gen- 
tlemen of  the  Committee,  all  of  whom  looked 
bland  and  complacent  at  the  tribute  to  their  be- 
nevolence. Some  of  them  responded  by  compli- 
ments to  the  Director,  and  there  was  considerable 
mutual  felicitation  interchanged  by  the  grown  boys 
before  they  deigned  to  consider  the  little  boys 
sitting  there  in  an  inward  fever  of  impatience,  yet 
heroically  straining  after  good  behavior. 

During  a  very  long  extempore  prayer  the  res- 
tiveness  of  the  two  hundred  and  thirty  -  eight  legs 
increased  to  an  alarming  degree.  It  was  as  if  they 
were  on  the  point  of  taking  to  their  heels,  despite 
the  stolidity  of  the  faces  above  them.  The  legs 
evidently  longed  to  skip  about  the  streets  in  the 
freedom  of  the  crisp  December  night.  But  mixed 
sentiments  —  faint  new-born  glimmerings  of  re- 
spectability and  pride,  as  well  as  pleasing  visions 
resulting  from  a  sly  cock  of  one  eye  at  the  brown 
packages,  during  prayer  -  time,  were  not  without 
influence,  and  heads  won.  Ornate  remarks  by 
different  gentlemen  followed  the  prayer,  and  a 
deal  of  well-meant  advice  to  the  boys.  The  vis- 
iting clergyman  informed  the  weary,  impatient  lit- 


A  BATTLE!  AND  A  BOY.  251 

tie  fellows  whose  young  lives  knew  blows,  profan- 
ity, hunger,  and  cold  better  than  food,  kindness, 
and  decency,  that  discipline  was  necessary  to 
moral  growth,  and  that  even  their  kind  Heavenly 
Father,  like  their  earthly  parents,  chastised  them 
for  their  good.  As  a  living  example  he  mentioned 
their  absent  comrade,  whom  he  declared  God  had 
especially  punished  for  disobedience,  breaking  his 
arm  and  depriving  him  of  the  Christmas-feast  be- 
cause he  had  disobediently  ventured  upon  the 
high  trapeze  five  minutes  before  the  arrival  of 
the  teacher.  The  clergyman  furthermore  recom- 
mended them  to  fear  God,  honor  the  king,  and  al- 
ways be  contented  in  the  station  in  which  they 
found  themselves. 

His  words  were  rather  long,  his  phrases  com- 
plex, his  voice  smooth  and  monotonous,  so  that 
the  majority  of  the  boys,  already  fatigued  by  the 
preliminaries,  did  not  listen  with  closest  attention. 
They  had  heard  it  all  very  often  too.  The  one 
idea  which  they  clearly  received  was  that  God  was 
very  angry  with  Max.  It  must  be  true,  for  a  cler- 
gyman with  a  long  coat  said  so.  It  did  not  seem 
in  any  respect  surprising,  for  in  their  experience 
somebody  was  always  angry,  whatever  boys  did, 
and — except  at  the  Hort — authority  and  power 


252  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

were  addicted  to  the  administration  of  corporeal 
punishment  and  things  were  frequently  broken  ; 
sometimes  the  stick,  sometimes  a  part  of  the  boy, 
it  didn't  matter  much  which.  Still  Max  was  a 
good  fellow,  and  the  best  gymnast  among  them, 
and  there  was  not  a  healthy  Hort  boy  who,  pro- 
vided he  got  the  chance,  was  not  ready  on  the  in- 
stant to  attempt  what  Max  had  attempted.  As  to 
punishment,  whether  human  or  divine,  they  had  al- 
ways been  hit  and  hurt  physically,  but  it  would 
never  occur  to  them  on  this  account  to  abandon 
their  circus-tricks. 

After  the  Committee  and  patrons  had  enjoyed 
their  own  fluency  for  some  time,  and  told  one  an- 
other how  wise,  philanthropic,  progressive,  large- 
hearted,  public-spirited,  etc.,  etc.,  they  all  were — 
the  boy  with  the  dressing-gown — like  old  Grimes's 
coat,  all  buttoned  down  before— stalked  superbly 
into  the  foreground,  and  spoke  his  piece  in  unim- 
peachable sing-song.  The  boys  revived  and  felt 
that  their  turn  had  finally  come.  Artur  limped  up 
to  the  platform,  stood  by  the  piano,  turned  toward 
the  guests  his  pale  wizened  face  and  the  luminous 
intensity  of  eyes  that  looked  as  if  they  already  saw 
into  the  Spirit  Land,  and  unmoved  by  the  presence 
of  strangers,  his  strong,  sweet  soprano  led  his  com- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  253 

rades.  And  how  the  dregs  and  slums  sang  !  Like 
glad  angels,  like  pure  joyous  beings  ignorant  of  sin 
or  pain,  yet  with  that  most  touching  quality  which 
haunts  the  fresh  voices  of  young  boys. 

More  recitations  followed,  stirring  tales  of 
knights  and  kings,  of  brave  deeds  and  high 
thoughts  told  by  golden-tongued  poets  to  the  world, 
and  interpreted  by  these  little  men  according 
to  the  individual  receptivity.  One  after  another, 
awkward  and  ashamed,  in  their  queer  clothes — 
baggy  or  pinched  as  the  case  might  be,  but  usually 
made  for  some  other  boy's  angles — they  marched 
up  to  the  platform  and  spoke,  some  with  a  dull 
hang-dog  mumble,  others  with  a  certain  dash  and 
freedom  in  the  wrong  place,  few  with  any  trace  of 
comprehension  and  sympathy;  yet  the  memory  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller  was  not  desecrated  by  their 
stumbling  efforts. 

Franzl  came  up  last.  He  had  learned  Schiller's 
"  Hostage."  It  was  long,  but  his  omnivorous  mem- 
ory devoured  the  twenty  stanzas  of  seven  lines  with 
little  effort.  He  did  not  know  that  it  was  hack- 
neyed, and  he  could  tell  its  tale  of  heroic  friend- 
ship with  great  swing  and  warmth,  as  if  he  had 
discovered  it.  He  had  made  his  newly  acquired 
bow,  and  was  on  the  point  of  beginning,  when 


254  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Arno  motioned  him  to  wait  and  Major  von  Nor- 
mann  came  forward,  to  the  ecstasy  of  the  Hort. 
Every  eye  gleamed,  and  it  must  be  confessed  the 
rascals  paid  keener  attention  to  each  button  and 
stripe  of  his  uniform  than  to  all  the  advice  and 
admonitions  thus  far  showered  upon  them. 

"  On  the  part  of  his  Majesty  the  King,  I  have 
the  honor  and  happiness  to  present  to  my  young 
friend  Franzl  Reiner  a  medal  rarely  bestowed 
upon  a  child,  nobly  merited  in  this  instance  by 
Franzl,  who  risked  his  life  to  save  the  life  of  a 
boy  who  was  not  even  his  friend." 

At  a  gesture  from  his  father,  Kurt  came  forward 
and  attached  the  shining  silver  medal  to  Franzl's 
jacket,  and  Kurt's  worst  enemy  must  have  admit- 
ted that  he  officiated  in  this  ceremony  with  evi- 
dent heartiness,  and  a  most  gentlemanlike  bearing, 
while  on  his  face  was  an  expression  of  thoughtful- 
ness  and  affection  much  more  becoming  than  his 
habitual  contortions.  His  virtuous  intervals  never 
were  of  long  duration,  however,  and  having  distin- 
guished himself  for  three  minutes,  he  gave  Franzl 
a  slap  on  the  back  and  whispered : 

"  Now  spout,  old  fellow ! " 

But  Franzl  could  not,  for  the  boys  were  cheer- 
ing and  everybody  was  coming  to  shake  hands 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  255 

with  him  and  crowd  about  him,  and  he  never  felt 
so  bewildered  in  his  life. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean?  "  he  asked  Arno. 

"  That  you  are  decorated  for  bravery." 

Franzl  was  prodigiously  excited.  There  was 
the  medal,  and  the  King  had  sent  it,  and  the 
King's  head  was  on  it,  but  he  knew  he  could  not 
help  diving  for  Kurt  when  he  didn't  come  up 
again.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen,  all  talking  at 
once,  confused  him.  He  did  not  feel  happy  or 
clear  in  his  mind  about  anything.  He  wanted  to 
rush  out  of  sight,  but  there  was  his  piece.  He 
was  proud  of  saying  the  longest  one,  and  knew 
he  said  it  well. 

Presently  there  was  silence.  He  found  himself 
alone  on  the  platform.  The  ushers  had  reseated 
the  guests.  The  boys'  tumult  had  subsided. 
Arno  nodded  to  him  to  begin. 

But  where  was  the  poem  ?  He  stared  at  the 
ceiling,  at  the  floor,  at  the  famiKar  faces.  He 
could  not  think  of  one  word. 

A  friendly  voice  gave  him  the  title  and  first 
line.  Useless.  It  was  gone,  quite  gone.  His 
memory,  the  pride  of  the  Hort  as  much  as  Max's 
muscle  and  Artur's  voice,  had  deserted  him. 

He  saw  the  rows  of  boys.     They  did  not  laugh. 


256  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

It  was  terribly  still.  Hildegard  gave  an  audible 
sob.  He  caught  Kurt's  eye.  It  was  indeed  an 
awful  moment  if  Kurt  von  Normann's  mocking 
face  could  wear  that  look  of  consternation. 

Franzl's  knees  shook  under  him.  He  heard  his 
heart  beating  in  his  ears.  It  seemed  to  him  all 
was  lost.  He  longed  to  run  away  where  nobody 
would  ever  find  him,  but  his  feet  were  glued  to 
the  floor.  Surely  he  had  stood  there  years. 
Heinrich  spoke,  but  Franzl  could  not  understand. 
His  throat  felt  parched.  He  moved  his  hand 
toward  it  mechanically  and  touched  the  medal. 
His  stage-fright  suddenly  turned  into  hot  wrath. 
If  they  hadn't  given  him  that  old  medal  he 
wouldn't  have  forgotten  his  piece.  Something  in 
the  very  heart  of  the  boy  rose  up  with  dogged  de- 
termination not  to  be  beaten.  He  threw  back  his 
head  and  looked  at  them  all,  yet  at  no  one. 

"  Give  me  five  minutes,"  he  cried,  with  desper- 
ate, passionate  energy,  "only  five  minutes — and 
I'll  say  it — every  word ! " 

With  a  stag-like  bound,  he  was  out  of  the 
room,  followed  by  the  frantic  cheers  of  the  Hort 
boys,  and  a  great  stir  of  sympathy  among  the  vis- 
itors. Arno  and  Heinrich  were  instantly  with 
him.  He  did  not  reply  to  them,  gave  but  one 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  257 

swift  glance  at  the  open  book  held  toward  him, 
saw  no  words,  only  the  familiar  look  of  the  lines 
and  white  spaces,  drew  a  deep  breath,  smiled 
rapturously,  sprang  back  to  his  place  and  began 
his  poem,  his  voice  clear  and  confident— as  he 
went  on  losing  himself  more  and  more  in  the 
brave  tale. 

When  he  had  finished  and  the  boys  yelled  with- 
out rebuke,  and  the  people  crowded  round  him 
again  and  shook  hands  with  him,  and  some  of  the 
ladies  laughed  in  a  queer  kind  way,  he  thought  it 
was  because  he  had  said  his  piece  so  well,  and 
was  vastly  elated,  and  resolved  to  learn  one  twice 
as  long  for  next  time. 

Arno  ought  properly  to  have  spoken  now,  but 
he  thought  the  children  had  been  held  uncon- 
scionably long  in  leash,  and  he  chose  to  let  them 
loose  upon  their  goodies  and  brown  packages  in- 
stead of  haranguing  them.  A  full  hour  passed  in 
which  they  ate  and  gloated  over  their  presents  and 
were  happy  and  unconstrained,  and  certainly  very 
harmless,  while  now  and  then  somebody  played 
or  sang  without  interrupting  the  joyous  hum. 
Many  of  the  visitors  had  gone  when  some  of  the 
older  boys  cried :  "  Herr  Arno  promised  us  a 
speech." 


258  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

"  Your  fun  is  better  than  my  speech." 
"No,  no,"  the  Hort  protested.     "We  like  your 
kind  of  talk." 

The  smallest  boys  were  summarily  seated  and 
the  chattering  ones  effectually  silenced  by  a  self- 
appointed  police  force.  In  a  few  moments  the 
room  was  still,  every  boy  in  his  place,  every  eye 
raised  toward  Arno,  who,  in  a  kind,  quiet  tone, 
began: 


XVI. 

"  BOYS  :  Perhaps  you  think  when  we  hear  mu- 
sic, that  we  all  hear  it  alike.  We  do  not.  We  all 
hear  the  sound,  but  there  is  a  music  within  the 
music  which  some  hear  better  than  others ;  while 
a  deaf  man  does  not  know  what  he  misses  when 
the  birds  sing,  and  the  wind  sweeps  through  the 
pines  as  we  used  to  hear  it  on  our  tramps  in  the 
woods  last  autumn.  Perhaps  you  think  that  when 
we  look  at  that  picture  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  his 
dogs,  our  eyes  see  it  alike.  They  do  not.  We 
all  see  the  frame,  the  glass,  the  figures,  but  there 
is  a  meaning  in  the  lines  revealed  to  some  more 
than  to  others  ;  while  a  blind  man  can  never  know 
how  the  purple  dawn  chases  away  the  night,  and 
how  tender  and  beautiful  the  sunset  makes  our 
valley  and  our  hills.  A  man  destitute  of  the  sense 
of  smell  would  care  less  than  we  for  our  violets 
and  mignonette  and  lilies-of-the-valley,  that  we 
love  and  tend  under  our  windows  every  spring, 
and  that  send  their  sweet  breath  through  our 


260  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

open  casements  until  the  whole  Hort  is  full  of  fra- 
grance. 

When  great  men,  like  Goethe  and  Shakespeare, 
speak  to  us,  again  we  do  not  hear  alike.  We  all 
hear  the  words,  but  there  is  something  we  do  not 
seize.  Their  inner  thought,  their  spirit  does  not 
reach  us  all.  If  it  did  it  would  make  us  happy  as 
a  Beethoven  Symphony  does  some  of  us,  as  that 
copy  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  does  others.  And  if 
we  could  comprehend  all  that  these  great  souls 
mean,  then,  in  one  sense,  we  should  be  as  great 
as  Shakespeare  and  Goethe  and  Beethoven  and 
Raphael.  According  as  we  understand  and  feel 
them,  are  we  near  and  like  them ;  for  this  we  need 
the  eyes  behind  the  eyes  and  the  ears  within  our 
ears. 

When  a  man  is  blind  or  deaf,  it  is  sad  to  think 
how  much  of  this  beautiful  world  he  loses.  It  is 
sadder  still  if  his  inner  eyes  are  blind,  his  inner 
ears  deaf;  if,  with  no  physical  defect,  he  is  un- 
moved by  the  music  we  love,  by  the  noble  lines  of 
"  The  Dying  Gaul,"  which  I  showed  you  in  the 
Art  Gallery,  by  the  great  Titian  we  saw  to- 
gether, by  the  lofty  columns  and  vaults  of  the 
cathedral,  or  by  deep  thoughts  such  as  you  have 
repeated  in  your  poems  to-day.  He  is  the  most 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  261 

wretched  of  men,  and  he  does  not  know  what  he 
misses  in  our  wonderful  world. 

Boys,  we  cannot  all  sing  like  Artur,  and  some  of 
us  would  never  be  musicians  if  we  should  study 
music  all  our  lives  ;  but  most  of  us  can  learn  each 
day  to  care  more  for  and  understand  better  what 
he  sings  and  the  sweetness  of  his  voice.  We  can- 
not all  draw  as  well  as  Paul,  but  we  can  become 
more  appreciative  of  his  work.  We  cannot  all  carve 
as  cleverly  as  Bobert,  but  we  can  learn  to  estimate 
more  highly  his  diligence  and  skill.  We  cannot 
all  lead  in  the  gymnasium  like  Max,  but  we  can 
admire  his  courage,  strength,  and  suppleness,  and 
the  patience  he  shows  each  day  in  his  regular  ex- 
ercise. We  cannot  all  memorize  as  fast  and  easily 
as  Franzl,  but  we  can  take  pleasure  in  his  ability 
and  learn,  as  he  will  learn,  to  love  more  strongly 
and  comprehend  better  the  beautiful  things  he  re- 
peats to  us.  We  all  have  not  Otto's  knowledge  of 
insects  and  birds  and  plants,  and  his  loving  way 
of  understanding  their  habits  and  needs,  but  the 
closer  we  sympathize  with  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  humblest  weed  and  moss  and  twig, 
the  better  for  us.  Few  of  us  are  so  gentle  and 
harmless  as  our  little  Hans  here,  but  if  we  grow 
less  rough  and  imperious  and  jealous,  we  imitate 


262  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

him  in  the  quality  in  which  he  surpasses  most  of 
us — a  forgiving  spirit.  So  day  by  day,  as  we  go 
on  doing  our  own  work  and  rejoicing  in  our  com- 
rade's, we  shall  find  that  our  inner  eyes  and  inner 
ears  which  perceive  beautiful  sights  and  sounds 
are  developing  all  the  time,  until  we  discover  hap- 
piness on  every  side  that  is  hidden  from  us  now. 

Boys,  once  we  lived  in  caves  and  jungles.  By 
"  we  "  I  mean  the  human  race,  our  ancestors,  in 
far;  far-off  times.  We  were  like  brutes,  but  there 
was  something  divine  in  us,  something  that  made 
us  wish,  something  that  was  not  content  to  live 
like  the  beasts  of  the  field.  We  wished  to  defend 
ourselves  against  the  wild  animals ;  we  tore  down 
branches  of  trees  for  clubs  and  seized  sharp  stones 
for  weapons.  We  were  cold  and  struck  fire  by 
rubbing  sticks  together.  We  wanted  to  sail  on  a 
river,  we  hollowed  out  a  tree  and  made  the  first 
boat.  When  we  began  to  use  these  things  for  our 
needs,  that  was  the  beginning  of  science  and  art. 
If  we  had  not  wished  and  worked  and  struggled, 
we  should  be  living  in  caves  to-day,  provided  we 
were  living  at  all ;  but  if  we  had  not  used  what  in- 
telligence we  had,  the  beasts  would  have  devoured 
us,  because  they  were  the  stronger.  Out  of  the 
wishing  of  those  savage  cave-dwellers,  and  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY.  263 

wishing  and  striving  of  the  men  that  followed 
through  the  long  ages,  came  the  Thought  of 
Shakespeare  and  Goethe  and  Michael  Angelo  and 
Beethoven  and  Newton,  that  ennobles  the  world 
to-day.  In  the  depths  of  the  poor  cave-dweller's 
soul  was  hidden  something  akin  to  these  mighty 
men.  In  the  souls  of  the  mightiest  and  best,  of  all 
grand  thinkers,  teachers,  inventors,  singers,  poets, 
painters,  heroes,  saints,  and  martyrs,  still  lingers 
something  of  the  cave-dweller.  And  you  and  I, 
boys,  this  night,  have  something  of  both  in  us, 
something  always  ready  to  pull  us  down,  and  make 
us  like  the  brutes,  something  always  ready  to  help 
us  to  rise  toward  heights  where  the  great  and 
good  stand.  God  meant  it  to  be  so.  He  meant 
us  to  wish,  to  work,  and  to  rise. 

Wishing,  then,  is  not  wrong.  But  if  we  knew 
a  man's  secret  wish  we  should  know  the  man.  I 
have  overheard  some  of  your  Christmas  wishes.  I 
heard  one  of  you  wish  for  a  sugar-candy  palace. 
I  think  this  was  a  very  natural  wish.  The  sugar 
palace  doubtless  looked  pretty  and  tempting  in  the 
shop  window.  But  by  the  wish  we  know  that  it 
was  a  very  little  boy  who  thought  this,  the  most  de- 
sirable thing  that  the  Christ-kind  could  bring  him. 
I  heard  another  of  you  say  that  he  wished  he  had 


264  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

a  horse  and  two  big  dogs.  I  think  this  a  most 
excellent  wish.  Even  if  I  did  not  know  him,  I 
should  know  he  was  an  active,  manly  fellow  who 
loved  animals.  I  hope  he  may  have  them  some 
day.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  will  if  he  wants 
them  enough  to  work  well  for  them. 

There  have  been  legions  of  poor  boys  in  this 
world,  whose  hearts  were  great  to  wish  and  to  hold 
their  wish  against  mighty  odds. 

Of  whom  must  we  first  think  when  we  remember 
poor  boys  this  day  ?  Of  Christ,  the  poorest  boy  of 
all,  so  poor  that  He  did  not  know  where  to  lay  His 
head.  You  all  know  the  story  of  His  life.  Born 
in  a  manger  ;  a  humble  child ;  wandering,  when  a 
man,  homeless — suffering  from  hunger  and  thirst 
and  weariness,  the  companion  of  outcasts,  of 
wretched  men  and  women,  whom  He  with  infinite 
compassion  sought  to  help  and  comfort,  himself  an 
outcast ;  hated  and  scorned  by  the  rich  and  strong, 
because  His  teachings  disturbed  their  comfort — 
persecuted,  acquainted  with  grief  —  this  was  the 
Christ  who  has  moved  the  world.  The  world — 
society,  as  we  say  to-day — spoke  ill  of  Him,  be- 
cause He  denounced  its  errors,  its  falseness,  and 
hypocrisy.  Not  only  in  His  last  supreme  hours, 
but  all  His  life,  His  soul  was  torn  with  an  agony  of 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  265 

longing  to  open  men's  eyes  and  hearts  to  truth. 
Centuries  have  passed.  Kingdoms  have  come  and 
gone.  Creeds  have  lived  and  nourished  and  died. 
Eeligions,  each  claiming  to  be  Christ's  own,  have 
hated  and  fiercely  fought  with  one  another.  To- 
day scores  of  sects  proclaim  Christ  under  different 
forms,  and  with  reason,  for  in  all  the  churches 
His  pure  spirit  lives :  not  in  their  bishops'  robes, 
their  endowments,  their  rites,  their  prejudices  or 
exclusiveness — not  in  their  phylacteries,  as  Christ 
said — but  in  their  charity.  The  voice  of  the  poor 
boy  of  Nazareth  has  gone  out  over  all  the  earth, 
teaching  us  to  be  tolerant,  to  be  pitiful,  and  to 
seek  truth  fearlessly.  This,  boys,  is  the  lesson  of 
Christmas  Day,  of  Christ's  Day — peace,  good-will 
to  men,  love,  forgiveness,  and  fearless  truth. 

Martin  Luther's  father  was,  as  you  have  read, 
a  poor  miner.  Martin  used  to  sing  in  the  streets 
for  bread.  He  was  often  cold,  often  hungry.  I 
have  told  you  his  story.  You  know  that  he  is 
famous  all  over  the  world  for  his  bravery,  his 
zeal,  and  his  good  life,  and  that  his  undaunted 
spirit  influenced  princes,  powers,  nations,  all  Eu- 
rope. 

Haydn,  one  of  the  greatest  composers,  was  a 
poor  boy.  His  father  was  a  wheelwright,  his 


266  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

mother  a  cook.  Rossini,  another  great  musician, 
was  the  child  of  street-singers.  Hans  Andersen, 
who  wrote  the  lovely  fairy  tales  I  have  read  to 
you  —  tales  that  have  been  translated  into  all  the 
languages  of  Europe,  and  even  into  Chinese,  Jap- 
anese, and  Hindostanee,  was  a  poor  shoemaker's 
son,  so  ugly  and  awkward  that  he  was  laughed  at. 
His  early  life  was  very  hard.  But  he  worked  and 
wrote  on.  Before  he  died  he  was  greatly  loved 
and  honored,  and  the  world  remembers  him  kindly 
because  he  has  made  so  many  little  children  happy. 
I  could  never  tell  you  all  the  authors  who  have 
been  poor.  Robert  Burns,  the  Scotch  poet,  was  a 
very  poor  peasant.  Schiller  was  poor,  Shakes- 
peare, it  is  said,  was  poor,  so  was  Moliere,  the 
Frenchman  who  wrote  the  wonderful  plays.  You 
have  been  told  something  of  them  all. 

Christopher  Columbus,  who  discovered  the  New 
World,  was  a  humble  boy,  the  sou  of  a  wool-comber. 
He  was  born  near  Genoa,  an  Italian  sea-port.  As 
a  boy  he  used  to  love  to  hang  about  the  wharves, 
and  have  long  talks  with  old  sailors,  and  pore  over 
maps  and  charts.  When  he  wanted  to  sail  west- 
ward to  reach  India,  as  he  supposed,  nobody 
would  listen  to  him.  They  thought  him  a  dreamer. 
He  went  through  groat  hardships  and  discourage- 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  267 

ments,  but  he  kept  his  hope  in  his  heart  fifteen 
long  years.  At  last  he  got  help  and  sailed.  On 
the  unknown  seas  his  men  were  frightened,  begged 
to  go  back,  wept,  threatened  and  cursed  him ;  but 
he  stood  firm,  and  after  seventy  days  saw  land, 
one  of  the  Bahama  Islands.  Columbus's  life  was 
hard  and  cruel.  He  met  with  great  ingratitude 
and  died  poor.  But  to-day  we  revere  his  divine 
patience,  and  know  that  his  inner  eyes  beheld  land 
unseen  by  his  fellows. 

So  it  is  with  the  great  inventors.  Stephenson, 
the  inventor  of  the  locomotive,  was  a  poor  little 
English  boy,  the  son  of  a  colliery  laborer.  He 
was  so  ignorant  that  his  wife  taught  him  to  read 
after  they  were  married.  When  he  was  but  four- 
teen he  became  fireman  in  the  colliery.  He  de- 
lighted in  machinery,  and  was  always  working  and 
contriving  something  new.  Finally  he  made  his 
engine.  It  went  only  thirty  miles  an  hour.  We 
do  not  realize  to-day  how  astonished  the  country 
people  must  have  been  to  see  it  snorting  through 
the  fields,  but  the  youngest  of  you  can  understand 
more  or  less  how  much  his  invention  has  benefited 
the  world.  His  early  life  was  full  of  privation 
and  struggle.  Afterward  he  built  many  engines, 
owned  coal  mines,  and  wealth  and  honors  poured 


268  A   BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

upon  him,  but  he  never  changed  his  simple  mode 
of  life  and  worked  diligently  always. 

Eichard  Arkwright,  inventor  of  the  cotton-spin- 
ning machine,  was  also  a  poor  little  English  boy, 
without  education.  He  worked  as  barber  until  he 
was  nearly  thirty  years  old.  When  he  was  thirty- 
six,  he  made  a  cotton-spinning  frame,  by  which, 
for  the  first  time,  cotton  thread  could  be  made  by 
machinery,  fine  and  strong  enough  for  the  warp  or 
long  threads  of  cloth,  which  before  his  time  were 
of  linen,  only  the  weft  or  cross-threads  being  of 
cotton.  The  workmen  and  manufacturers  tried  to 
ruin  him,  because  they  feared  his  machine  would 
cut  off  work,  for  one  man  with  his  frame  could  do 
as  much  work  as  a  hundred  and  thirty  men  could 
before  ;  but  he  succeeded  in  spite  of  everything. 

Edison,  the  American  who  invented  the  won- 
derful phonograph  I  took  you  to  see,  and  a  tele- 
phone and  improvements  in  electric  light,  and 
many  marvellous  things,  was  a  poor  boy  with  lit- 
tle education,  who  sold  newspapers  on  a  railway 
train.  He  loved  chemistry,  made  a  little  labor- 
atory, and  was  always  trying  experiments,  so  the 
people  laughed  at  him  and  called  him  lunatic 
or  "  looney."  One  day  he  almost  set  fire  to  the 
train,  and  the  conductor  threw  his  treasures  away. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  269 

He  then  got  some  old  type,  and  printed  a  little 
newspaper  which  he  sold  to  railway  travellers. 
Now  he  is  honored  and  admired  all  over  the 
world.  He  is  always  wishing  and  working,  and 
studying  the  great  laws  of  nature,  and  seeing  with 
his  inner  eyes  what  the  world  does  not  yet  see. 

Kepler,  the  famous  astronomer,  born  as  you 
know  not  far  from  us,  had  much  trouble  all  his 
life,  and  was  very  poor.  It  did  not  prevent  his 
love  for  science,  and  he  found  out  the  laws  that 
rule  the  motion  of  the  planets,  by  which  we  are 
enabled  to  tell  the  place  of  anyone  of  them  in  its 
orbit  at  any  time,  past  or  present.  From  these 
laws  sprang  the  great  discoveries  of  Newton,  of 
which  I  have  often  told  you  older  boys.  Gutten- 
berg,  though  not  born  poor,  was  a  poor  work- 
ingman.  Sir  Humphry  Davy,  the  great  English 
chemist,  was  a  very  poor  boy.  He  did  important 
scientific  work,  became  honored  and  distinguished 
for  his  learning,  and  invented  a  safety-lamp  which 
has  saved  thousands  of  miners'  lives.  For  this  he 
would  not  take  out  a  patent,  because  his  object  was 
not  to  make  money,  but  to  help  his  fellow -men. 
Eobert  Fulton,  the  inventor  of  the  steamboat  and 
first  steam  war-ship  ever  made,  was  a  poor  boy. 
Morse,  the  inventor  of  the  telegraph,  was  poor.  So 


270  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

was  Elias  Howe,  whose  improvements  on  the  sew- 
ing machine  have  caused  one  of  the  greatest,  if 
peaceful,  revolutions  the  world  has  known.  Benja- 
min Franklin,  one  of  the  most  important  Americans, 
was  a  poor  boy  whose  father  was  a  tallow-chandler. 
Franklin  became  a  learned  and  distinguished  man, 
of  service  to  his  country  and  the  world.  He  made 
many  experiments  with  electricity,  and  found  out 
how  to  protect  houses  with  the  lightning-rod. 
Giotto,  the  famous  Italian  painter,  architect,  and 
sculptor,  was  a  poor  little  shepherd  boy.  The 
story  is  told  that  the  painter  Cimabue  found  him 
sketching  a  sheep  on  a  piece  of  smooth  slate  as  he 
was  watching  his  flock  on  the  hillside.  Cimabue, 
struck  with  his  talent,  took  him  home  as  a  pupil. 
So  many  of  the  greatest  painters  and  sculptors 
were  poor,  humble,  ignorant  boys,  I  cannot  begin  to 
tell  their  names  in  this  short  time.  Thorwaldsen, 
whose  Christ  we  have  here,  was  very,  very  poor,  so 
was  Kaulbach,  so  was  the  famous  French  peasant 
painter  Millet.  So  were  many  rulers,  generals, 
statesmen — men  who  have  occupied  positions  of 
eminence  in  every  field  and  influenced  the  thought 
of  their  epoch.  Not  a  few  of  the  Presidents  of  the 
United  States  were  poor  boys  who  grew  to  be 
strong  men.  Of  these,  Abraham  Lincoln  is  the 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  271 

one  whose  story  we  in  Germany  know  best,  and 
whose  memory  we  most  revere.  For  he  was  not 
only  a  great  ruler,  but  a  wise  and  lofty  spirit,  full 
of  tolerance,  of  compassion,  and  comprehension. 
Everywhere  we  look,  we  find  poor  boys  who  have 
become  great  and  helpful  to  humanity.  Moses 
and  scores  of  Bible  heroes  ;  Socrates  and  Aristotle, 
of  whom  I  have  told  you  and  who  were  among  the 
greatest  men  who  ever  lived,  and  many  other  Greek 
philosophers.  The  travellers  and  explorers,  too. 
Stanley,  whose  "  Dark  Continent "  is  in  our  li- 
brary, was  a  poor-house  child.  Monarchs  are 
glad  to  do  him  honor  to-day,  because  he  has 
opened  a  new  world  to  us  and  has  exhibited  mar- 
vellous fortitude,  force  of  will,  brain-power,  and 
manliness. 

Some  of  these  names  you  know.  Some  you  do 
not — which  does  not  matter.  You  will  know  them 
the  sooner  for  hearing  them.  It  is  a  pity  to  men- 
tion them  so  briefly,  for  some  of  these  men's 
struggles  have  been  so  vast,  so  pathetic  and  he- 
roic, they  would  touch  your  hearts  and  make  you 
love  and  honor  the  human  race,  because  it  has 
produced  so  brave  souls.  But  we  shall  have  time 
to  speak  of  them  later. 

They  are  but  a  few  taken  at  random  from  the 


272  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

vast  army  of  poor  boys  that  has  advanced  the 
progress  of  the  world.  How  did  they  do  it? 
They  wished,  and  they  worked  with  the  strong  un- 
conquerable will  that  gave  them  courage  and 
patience  to  contend  with  obstacles.  When  rich 
men  have  been  great — and  rich  men  also  have  been 
great  and  good — they  too  have  worked.  No  great 
soul  ever  lived  a  life  of  ease  and  indolence.  Caesar 
and  Titian  and  Bismarck  were  not  poor  men,  but 
they  worked  more  than  most  poor  men  ever 
dreamed  of  working.  Holbein  and  Diirer,  and 
ages  ago,  great  Phidias  and  Praxiteles,  were  not 
poor,  but  they  also  wished  and  willed  and  worked 
patiently  to  fix  their  thought  on  canvas  and  in 
marble.  For,  remember,  great  artists  and  great 
thinkers,  not  alone  men  with  spades  and  trowels, 
are  workers. 

Looking  back,  then,  at  the  wishers,  you  will  see 
that  it  is  worth  while  to  wish.  Our  wishes  change. 
Perhaps  by  next  Christmas,  Fritzchen  will  not 
want  the  sugar  palace  most.  It  is  good  that  we 
can  begin  each  day  fresh,  and  if  our  wish  is  small 
make  it  larger.  Wish  for  knowledge,  and  you  will 
get  it.  Wish  for  wealth,  and  you  may  get  it. 
Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  in  itself  valuable, 
but  only  as  means  toward  an  end,  that  is,  only  as 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  273 

you  are  in  right  relations  to  your  fellowmen,  only 
as  you  are  large  toward  them,  and  just  and  help- 
ful. We  hear  much  talk  nowadays  —  you  boys 
hear  it  also  I  am  sure — about  labor  and  capital, 
and  some  very  wild  ideas  about  capitalists.  There 
are  many  capitalists  who  do  a  vast  amount  of  good, 
who  have  worked  hard  for  their  money  and  who 
have  earned  it  honestly,  and  it  is  as  much  theirs  as 
the  bit  of  silver  belongs  to  one  of  you  that  some- 
body gives  him  for  running  on  an  errand.  It 
would  then  be  your  capital.  You  would  not  thank 
anybody  for  taking  it  away  from  you,  because  he 
had  earned  nothing.  Before  we  hate  people  for 
being  what  we  unjustly  call  more  lucky  than  we, 
let  us  consider  candidly  what  immeasurable  good 
such  men  as  the  Rothschilds  and  Sir  Moses 
Montefiore  have  done  in  the  world ;  for  they  have 
fed  the  hungry  and  clothed  the  poor,  and  edu- 
cated and  comforted  and  sustained  in  private  as 
well  as  public  charities,  and  while  giving  poise  to 
kingdoms,  have  often  not  let  their  right  hand 
know  what  their  left  had  done,  in  loving,  helpful, 
secret  deeds.  And  therefore,  boys,  although  there 
are  higher  and  happier  goals  than  wealth  alone, 
set  your  ambition  on  becoming  capitalists  rather 
than  bootblacks  ;  for  believe  me — as  much  abused 


274  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

as  capitalists  are  at  the  moment,  they  do  more 
good  in  the  world. 

When  ten  boys  run  a  race,  not  all  can  win. 
One  will  run  fastest.  We  know  that  beforehand. 
If  the  ten  could  run  alike,  there  would  be  no  race. 
But  if  the  one  who  is  beaten  worst  can  forgive  the 
victor,  can  keep  his  temper  and  feel  no  hate  or 
jealousy,  although  he  really  wanted  to  win,  he  has 
done  something  better  than  all  the  fast  running  in 
the  world.  He  has  climbed  far  from  the  caves. 
So  it  is  in  all  your  play,  so  it  is  in  your  lessons, 
and  so  will  it  be  when  you  are  men. 

Looking  upon  all  your  familiar  faces,  I  see 
among  you  boys  from  families  professing  the 
Protestant,  Catholic,  and  Hebrew  faiths.  For  any 
boy  who  wishes  can  come  here  without  distinction 
of  creed,  and  we  of  the  Hort  believe  that  in  all 
religions,  in  all  nations,  at  all  times,  there  have 
been  and  are  great  and  good  men.  In  opening  our 
doors  to  all,  we  feel  that  we  follow  the  teachings  of 
Christ  and  of  all  true  lovers  of  mankind. 

What  are  the  mottoes  on  our  walls  ? 

Coarse  rice  for  food,  water  to  drink,  the  bended 
arm  for  a  pillotv,  happiness  may  be  enjoyed  even 
with  these,  but  witJiout  virtue,  both  riches  and  honor 
seem  to  me  like  the  passing  cloud. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  275 

Who  said  this?  Confucius,  the  great  Chinese 
teacher,  who  lived  a  noble  and  beautiful  life  more 
than  five  hundred  years  before  Christ. 

Faithfulness  and  sincerity  are  the  highest  things, 
he  said  too,  and  also  that  excellent  motto  for  us 
workers  : 

If  I  am  building  a  house  and  stop  before  the  last 
basketful  of  earth  is  placed  on  the  summit,  I  have 
failed  of  my  ivork.  But  if  I  Jiave  placed  but  one 
basketful  on  the  plain,  and  go  on,  I  am  really  build- 
ing a  mountain. 

If  it  is  not  right,  do  not  do  it ;  if  it  is  not  true,  do 
not  say  it,  said  the  Roman  Emperor  Marcus  Aure- 
lius,  and  that  is  so  simple  that  the  very  youngest 
of  you  can  remember  and  understand  it. 

What  said  Zoroaster,  the  Persian  who  lived, 
some  scholars  believe,  many  thousand  years  before 
Christ? 

Tliink  purely,  speak  purely,  act  purely. 

Is  not  that  as  good  for  the  Hort  to-day  as  it  was 
for  the  Persians,  thousands  of  years  ago  ? 

Out  of  the  ancient  religions  of  India  we  have 
taken  from  the  Brahmans  : 

The  soul  itself  is  its  own  witness,  the  soul  itself  is 
its  own  refuge.  Offend  not  thy  conscious  soul — the 
supreme  internal  witness  of  men. 


276  A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOY. 

And  from  the  Buddhists  : 

/  take  my  refuge  in  thy  Law  of  Good. 

I  take  my  refuge  in  thy  Order. 

There,  on  the  south  wall,  we  have  an  Egyptian 
motto  written  four  thousand  years  ago  or  more  : 

Man's  lieart  rules  tJie  man.  The  bad  man's  heart 
is  what  the  wise  know  to  be  death.  He  wJio  made 
us  is  present  with  us,  though  we  are  alone. 

Keep  thy  heart  urith  all  diligence,  for  out  of  it  are 
the  issues  of  life,  says  the  Old  Testament,  and 
again : 

Whither  shall  I  go  from  thy  spirit,  or  whither 
shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  ?  If  I  climb  up  into 
heaven  thou  art  there,  if  I  go  doivn  into  the  abyss, 
thou  art  tJiere  also.  If  I  take  tlte  wings  of  the  morn- 
ing and  remain  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea, 
even  there  shall  thy  liand  lead  me,  and  thy  right 
hand  shall  cover  me. 

While  Christ,  whose  birth  we  commemorate  in 
our  festival  this  evening,  gives  us  many  divinely 
helpful  words  : 

Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  me. 

Do  good  to  them  that  hate  you. 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart. 

Blessed  are  the  peacemakers. 

Love  one  anotJier. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  277 

Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 

In  all  our  rooms  we  have  such  words,  and  why  ? 

To  show  us  that  men,  thousands  of  years  ago, 
in  far-off  lands,  and  in  all  lands  were  like  us  to-day, 
in  spite  of  error,  looking  upward,  seeking  truth — 
and  that  the  human  race  is  one. 

Now,  boys,  I  want  to  call  your  attention  to  an 
important  fact.  The  same  power  that  placed  in 
us  the  striving,  the  desire  for  good,  the  seeking 
after  God,  the  great  hunger  of  the  heart,  has  also 
surrounded  us  with  laws  of  which  our  savage  an- 
cestors knew  nothing,  and  we  to-day  know  little 
enough  ;  but  the  more  we  study  the  meaning  of 
those  laws,  the  more  the  world  grows.  One  thing 
is  sure,  whatever  creed  a  man  cherishes,  he  cannot 
break  those  laws  without  taking  the  consequences. 
Whether  Protestant  or  Catholic,  if  he  puts  his 
hand  in  the  fire  he  burns  it.  If  Confucius,  or  Zo- 
roaster, or  Marcus  Aurelius,  or  St.  Paul  had  disre- 
garded the  law  of  gravitation  and  walked  off  a 
precipice,  he  would  have  fallen  on  the  rocks  below 
and  broken  his  bones  or  been  killed.  If  a  Bap- 
tist takes  deadly  poison,  he  will  die  as  surely  as  a 
Methodist.  Bad  drainage  and  filth  may  cause 


278  A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT. 

• 

fever  and  death  whether  the  people  inhabiting  the 
house  are  Jesuits  or  Lutherans.  No  one  can  cheat 
the  great  inexorable  laws  of  the  universe. 

Once  our  race  was  afraid  of  what  it  did  not 
understand,  of  sun  and  winds  and  storms,  light- 
ning and  thunder.  We  have  learned  to  recognize 
the  sun  as  our  life-giving  principle,  to  watch  the 
marvellous  motions  of  the  planets,  to  use  winds 
and  heat  and  steam,  to  call  down  the  lightning  to 
serve  us,  and  we  know  that  the  powers  of  nature 
are  our  friends,  not  our  enemies,  provided  we  find 
out  their  laws.  All  about  us,  in  the  whole  uni- 
verse, in  our  world,  our  own  bodies,  minds,  hearts, 
and  souls,  such  kws,  if  kept,  lead  to  health  and 
truth  and  right ;  if  broken,  to  disease  and  wrong 
and  misery  and  ruin.  Galileo,  Bruno,  Newton, 
and  Laplace,  Columbus  and  Magellan,  Lavoisier, 
Volta,  Galvani,  and  Darwin  were  all  studying  them. 
To-day  many  scholars  in  many  fields  are  seeking 
them,  in  the  stars,  in  electricity,  and  chemistry, 
and  botany,  and  geology.  Let  us  humbly  and  rev- 
erently study  them  too,  for  they  are  all  manifes- 
tations of  the  Infinite.  But  the  laws  are  there, 
whether  we  refuse  to  know  them  or  not.  The 
earth  and  the  other  planets  revolved  round  the  sun 
before  Copernicus  found  it  out  and  told  the  world. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  279 

• 

The  law  of  gravitation  existed  before  Newton  saw 
the  apple  fall.  The  laws  would  be  true  even  if  the 
whole  world  denied  them  still. 

When  people  first  saw  an  engine  steaming  along 
the  railway  they  thought  it  was  the  devil.  I  know 
some  old  ladies  who  declare  that  the  phonograph 
is  wicked,  and  that  it  is  the  devil's  voice  speak- 
ing in  it.  They  are  very  excellent  and  pious  old 
ladies,  and  they  are  positive  that  all  scientific  men 
are  doomed  to  eternal  punishment.  Within  fifty 
years,  when  ether  was  first  used,  many  good  people 
grew  much  excited  about  it,  and  asserted  that  it 
was  a  sinful  thing  to  try  to  deaden  the  pain  that 
God  sent.  People  thought  Galileo  a  terrible 
sinner  when  he  said  the  earth  moved  round  the 
sun,  and  they  persecuted  him  for  it.  In  those 
days  they  used  to  torture  and  burn  men  who  had 
strange  mathematical  and  astronomical  instru- 
ments, and  the  ones  who  tried  to  prevent  scholars 
from  studying  God's  ways  were  religious  people 
who  really  believed  it  their  duty  to  put  men  in 
prison  when  they  discovered  anything  new  about 
the  world  we  live  in.  If  Mr.  Edison  had  lived  a 
few  centuries  ago,  and  the  Inquisition  had  ex- 
amined his  workshops,  it  would  probably  have  con- 
demned him  for  witchcraft  and  boiled  him  in  oil. 


280  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

Yet  his  researches  are  reverent  He  believes  that 
the  existence  of  a  Supreme  God  is  proved  by 
chemistry  alone.  Like  great  poets,  the  inventors 
also  are  prophets  and  seers.  There  is  always  op- 
position, until  people  have  time  to  accustom  them- 
selves to  the  new  thought,  that  is,  to  the  old  truth 
which  is  new  to  them.  Nevertheless  patient  men 
work  on,  and  day  by  day  learn  more  of  the  great 
laws  which  God  does  not  reveal  to  us  all  at  once, 
but  only  in  response  to  our  search  and  striving. 

Remember,  too,  they  are  for  us  to  study  in  our- 
selves, in  the  smallest  as  in  the  greatest  things,  and 
that  what  each  of  us  does,  what  he  thinks  and 
feels,  is  important  to  the  whole  world.  When 
Hans  does  his  sums  right,  the  world's  arithmetic  is 
the  better  by  exactly  those  sums.  When  we  con- 
quer the  low  word,  the  mean  impulse,  are  cleanly 
and  decent,  when  we  resist  the  temptation  to  lie, 
and  speak  the  truth  bravely,  the  morals  of  the 
whole  world  are  higher,  and  we  help  not  only  our 
brothers  who  live  now,  but  our  brothers  who  will 
live  when  we  are  dead. 

If  you  learn  to  be  beaten  in  any  race  without  hat- 
ing, learn  to  let  people  differ  with  you  without  think- 
ing them  bad,  learn,  as  Voltaire  said,  to  "  forgive  the 
virtues  of  your  enemies,"  learn  that  men  working 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  EOT.  281 

in  totally  different  directions  may  all  be  working 
right,  because  for  the  progress  of  the  human  race  ; 
that  a  Caesar,  a  Kant,  a  Bach,  a  Pascal,  a  Buddha, 
and  that  glorious,  sweet  -  souled  martyr,  Father 
Damien,  who  went  to  take  care  of  the  poor  lepers, 
all  have  helped  the  world ;  that  millions  of  men 
and  women  of  whom  we  shall  never  hear,  near  us 
and  in  nations  far  from  us,  with  religious  views 
flatly  opposed  to  ours,  are  helping  the  growth  of 
the  world  to-day — learn  all  this,  and  you  will  in- 
deed have  left  the  caves  far,  far  behind. 

You  can  learn  these  things.  I  know  you,  every- 
one. I  believe  in  you.  But  you  must  think. 
Without  thought  you  cannot  grow  into  just  and 
large-hearted  men.  If  you  think,  if  you  ask  your- 
selves what  is  the  cause  of  this,  what  will  be  the  ef- 
fect of  that ;  how  by  this  shall  I  harm  myself,  and 
therefore  my  brother  and  the  whole  world,  then 
your  inner  eyes  and  ears — that  is  your  soul,  your 
spirit — will  develop.  Take  this  home  in  your 
hearts,  boys,  there  is  nothing  without  a  cause  and 
every  cause  has  an  effect.  God's  truth  is  strong 
enough  to  bear  investigation,  whether  among  the 
planets,  in  the  tides,  or  in  our  own  hearts.  Our 
probing  can  never  hurt  it  or  make  it  less  holy. 
Mysteries  there  will  always  be.  Not  only  are  we 


282  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

confronted  by  mystery  when  we  look  up  in  the  sky 
and  consider  that  our  earth  is  one  of  many  planets 
circling  round  the  sun,  and  that  there  are  innu- 
merable suns  each  with  companies  of  planets  re- 
volving round  them  and  probably  innumerable  in- 
habited worlds  in  illimitable  space ;  not  only  is  it 
a  mystery  when  death  comes  or  a  child  is  born, 
but  the  tiniest  flower  is  as  great  a  mystery,  and 
we  behold  a  mystery  when  we  look  into  our  bro- 
ther's eyes. 

Yet  the  more  we  search  for  truth  the  better  we 
comprehend  that  precisely  because  the  Supreme 
Ruler  is  all-just,  He  does  not,  cannot  change  His 
laws  to  suit  our  unjust  and  ignorant  desires.  Since 
our  forefathers  believed  that  the  earth  was  flat,  and 
the  sky  a  canopy  over  it  like  a  huge  blue  umbrella, 
not  very  far  off,  and  the  stars  mere  stationary 
points  of  light  twinkling  prettily  for  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  pleasing  mankind,  we  have  learned  some- 
thing of  God's  laws,  it  is  true.  But  never  forget 
that  what  we  know  of  them,  in  comparison  with  the 
vast  unknown  things  surrounding  us  on  every  side, 
and  reaching  out  beyond  the  most  remote  star  we 
see,  is  but  the  humblest,  tiniest,  most  insignificant 
beginning  of  what  men  who  come  after  us  will  know, 
of  what  we  ourselves  may  know  in  some  other  life. 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  SOT.  283 

It  is  because  the  laws  are  there  that  we  can  find 
comfort  when  cruel  sorrow  comes  to  us.  In  our 
bitterest  grief  we  know  that  infinite  justice,  not 
caprice,  rules  all  nature.  Because  of  these  very 
laws  which  govern  our  spirits  as  well  as  our 
bodies,  we  dare  hope  for  other  lives,  other  worlds 
— wherever,  whatever  they  may  be.  Because  of 
God's  laws,  feebly  as  we  now  discern  them,  we  can- 
not doubt  that  divine  love  is  the  soul  of  the  uni- 
verse. 

Go  on  then.  Be  wishers,  thinkers,  workers. 
Fear  nothing.  Make  men  of  yourselves,  men  to 
be  trusted  whatever  your  work  in  life,  trusted 
when  alone — at  midnight — when  none  will  ever 
know  your  thought  or  your  deed.  On  then,  Hort 
boys,  away  from  the  caves — on  toward  the  heights ! 

I  thank  you  for  your  attention  and  courtesy. 

Good-night.     God  bless  you." 

The  boys  poured  out  pell-mell.  Arno  heard 
their  comments  as  they  passed  down  the  hall. 

"I'll  box  all  your  ears,"  said  one — "those  that 
show  and  those  that  don't." 

"  I'm  going  to  find  a  cave  and  live  in  it,"  another 
announced,  "and  have  a  good  big  knotty  club 
made  out  of  a  whole  tree,  and  I'll  lie  in  wait  for 


284  A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY. 

people  who  go  to  walk  in  the  woods.  But  I  sup- 
pose as  soon  as  I  begin  to  have  some  fun,  there'll 
be  a  darned  old  policeman  after  me." 

Arno  smiled  without  surprise  or  discouragement. 
He  had  often  listened  to  society's  infantile  babble 
after  lectures  on  great  poets,  art,  astronomy,  elec- 
tricity, or  after  a  powerful  tragedy,  and  the  chil- 
dren's talk  struck  him  as  no  more  hopeless,  help- 
less, and  flippant  than  the  complacent  shatter  of 
grown  people  about  things  they  do  not  grasp.  He 
knew  too  the  bravado  of  his  boys,  and  that  the 
very  ones  who  had  spoken  might  be  the  first  to 
come  to  him  with  thoughtful  questions.  Some- 
thing would  remain  of  his  appeal  to  the  humanity 
of  the  neglected  souls.  If  his  words  were  some- 
times above  them,  what  then  ?  Should  babies 
hear  baby-talk  exclusively,  they  would  never  learn 
the  language  of  mature  men. 

"  A  topsy  -  turvy  speech  —  a  revolutionary 
speech ! "  said  the  major,  but  he  did  not  look  very 
stern. 

The  Normanns  waited  at  the  door  for  Franzl, 
who  did  not  come. 

Arno  went  back  for  him. 

The  janitor  was  putting  out  the  lights. 

Franzl  stood  alone  in  the  dim  room,  his  brown 


A  BATTLE  AND  A  BOY.  285 

package  under  his  arm.  He  had  forgotten  to  fol- 
low his  friends,  for  his  thoughts  were  leading  him 
in  zigzag  lightning  journeys,  from  land  to  land, 
from  age  to  age,  and  frowning  in  his  earnestness, 
his  lips  compressed  and  resolute,  he  was  trying  to 
decide  whether  he  would  be  a  Galileo,  an  Edison, 
a  Eaphael,  a  Christopher  Columbus,  or  a  Schiller. 


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